Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction
by LargeMarge
Summary: Trite phrases, overused plot devices, and other general insanity. Basically I'm making fun of bad fanfiction. So sue me. But don't really. Chapter 18 up! Tonks lays the smackdown on poor unsuspecting Harry, while Dumbledore has a bug fetish.
1. Happy Birthday, Freak

**Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction**

_Rampantly rampant adverbs, outlandish adjectives, trite phrases, overused plot devices, and other general insanity unfolds in the most hilariously hilarious year ever! _

**BY LARGEMARGE**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the phrase "great greasy git," which I find nicely alliterative. That's why I ripped it off. Borrowed, I mean. Oh, and I don't own Harry Potter either; that distinction belongs to someone decidedly more British. And if I had written the Harry Potter novels, don't you think I'd be selling my brilliant stories and living on my own private island?**

* * *

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FREAK**

Harry sat straight up in the darkness, panting and covered with sweat. He'd had another nightmare. He was always having another nightmare. He'd seen those eyes…those devilishly devilish evil glowing red eyes…

"Boy! I won't have you making noises and reminding us of your existence!" Uncle Vernon's massive form filled the doorway, blocking the light from the hallway. "So help me, I'm going to beat you to within an inch of your life so you won't do it again!"

Vernon proceeded to carry out his threat with Petunia and Dudley watching avidly from the doorway.

"What's gotten into you, Vernon?" Petunia inquired breathlessly from the doorway, not necessarily turned off by her husband's actions. "You've never been so violent with the boy before."

Vernon heaved Harry's broken body onto the bed and shrugged. "It was the last straw, Petunia. I couldn't take it anymore. All these years we've fed him and clothed him…the least he could do is try to breathe a little quieter." He slammed the door.

Through a haze Harry heard the three retreating back to their rooms. He tried to shift around on the bed to a more comfortable position, but the action only left him whimpering in pain. He felt like every bone in his body was broken. His entire body was on fire with pain. He was going to pass out. No, first he was going to be sick. Or maybe both together. Harry knew he'd never felt such terrible pain before. Not even as bad as all those times in the last five years he'd ended up in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Combined. The pain he was in now was so terrible that –

Luckily Harry passed out at that moment, sparing the reader further trite descriptions of just how awful his pain was.

* * *

"Boy! Wake up, boy! We want our breakfast!"

Harry whimpered. His head felt like it was going to split wide open. His body felt like it was on fire. He was having trouble breathing. And he just knew, that if he were to sit up, he would be sick –

"Boy!"

Harry sat up. He was not sick. Uncle Vernon was standing in the doorway, waving a plump finger in his direction. "Get downstairs and make our breakfast now!"

Harry lurched to his feet, certain that his legs would not hold him. Surprisingly enough, they did.

After making a hearty breakfast, Harry was, of course, denied any. He proceeded to wash the dishes while Vernon left for work, Dudley watched television, and Petunia sat in a chair eating a box of chocolates. Harry tried not to envy her the food she was eating. Of course he hadn't eaten in days. Or maybe it was weeks.

His last real meal…well, of course it had been at Hogwarts. Ever since then it had been a scrap of meat here, a crust of bread there. Now he was just skin and bones. Harry looked down and was not surprised to see the outline of every single rib poking through his shirt, despite the fact that it was a hand-me-down of Dudley's and far too big. His stomach had even ceased to growl with hunger anymore.

With a sigh Harry moved on with his chores. Next he had to do all the dusting and vacuuming. Then, of course, was the gardening. The Dursleys were ridiculously proud of their tiny patch of a garden, and it was Harry's responsibility to make sure that it continued to bear fruit. And vegetables too.

While he was poking around in the garden he spared a wave to Mrs. Figg, who was loitering about outside, watching him with concerned eyes. Harry, or course, did not notice the concern.

* * *

Later, as Harry prepared the evening meal, he was surprised by a loud Pop and the appearance of his potions professor.

"Professor Snape!" he said with shock and dismay, dropping the carrot he'd been chopping onto the floor.

"Potter," Snape said with a growling sneer. "Why do you look like somebody's beat the stuffing out of you?"

"Oh, well, I – you see, it's this way, professor –" stuttered Harry, too humiliated to admit the truth. "See, I tripped on the stairs and –"

"Don't even bother with the lies, _Potter_," Snape snarled. "You can't hide the truth from me."

Uncle Vernon had been watching television with the rest of the family, but by now had come to investigate the noise in the kitchen. "What's going on here?" he roared at the sight of Snape. "How dare you bring another of these…these…_freaks_ into my house, Potter! You'll regret this!" he howled.

"Silence, weakling!" Snape drew his wand from his sleeve and waved it about under Uncle Vernon's nose. "Despite the fact that you and I share a common loathing for this despicable excuse for a wizard, I feel an unaccountable urge to threaten you! Shut your cake hole now or prepare to live the rest of your life as a hideously unattractive individual!" Snape paused uncertainly. "Well…uglier than you are now, I mean."

Vernon stepped back in sudden fear, but his eyes still glared daggers at Harry. "Fine, _freak_," he said venomously, drops of spittle shooting out of his mouth.

Snape turned back to Harry. "Now, Potter, I suggest you explain swiftly and succinctly _what is going on here_."

Harry watched Snape with growing fear. _You've faced Voldemort; there's no need to fear Snape_, Harry reminded himself. But what would happen if Snape were to know the truth? He couldn't shut the fear out of his head. What was wrong with him? "I – I –" he stuttered, before collapsing in a heap on the floor.

* * *

The light pushing its way into Harry's head was too bright, and he whimpered.

"Stop your sniveling, Potter," a strangely familiar voice spoke above him. Harry's eyes whipped open, despite the bright light.

"Professor Snape?"

He was back in his room, lying on his bed, his potions professor standing over him, eyes narrowed. "Your divination skills seem to be improving," Snape said dryly.

"What…what happened?" Harry managed, past the queasy feeling in his stomach that came from days on end without a proper meal.

"First, Potter, you will tell me when the last time was that you've eaten a proper meal."

Harry's eyes widened at his professor's perceptiveness. "Oh, you know," he hedged, "it was just the other day…maybe even yesterday…"

"Potter! If you lie to me, so help me, I'll curse you into next week," Snape warned.

Harry had suddenly had enough. "Well, what do you care?" he shouted back. "What's it to you if I happen to die of malnutrition? It's not like I'm your precious _Malfoy_!" Harry pulled his knees into his chest and tried not to dwell on the pain…the _horrible pain_ that was pulsing through his body…the pain that was so terrible…even though he felt like he was going to _die_…probably at any moment…

When Snape spoke it was in a small voice that Harry hardly recognized. "I know. I can't even really explain it myself. It's just this sudden unexplainable fatherly urge towards…well, _you_, of all people."

Harry was at a loss for words. "Me? You don't even like me," he squeaked uncertainly. "Malfoy's your favorite."

"I know. It's just that…seeing you so helpless and hurt, looking like somebody beat the crap out of you…"

A voice spoke indignantly from the doorway. "I did _not_ beat the crap out of him," Uncle Vernon insisted. "I didn't give him anything he didn't deserve in the first place, you…you _freak_!"

Snape hardly even looked in that direction, just flicked his wand, and the door slammed shut in Uncle Vernon's face.

"Potter, you will not…I repeat, _will not_ ever tell anyone I just said that. I mean, you're right. I don't even like you. It must be…I don't know, temporary insanity or something." Snape ran his hand over his face before leaning toward Harry. "Here, drink this." He offered a potion which Harry drank without question, nevermind that it had been handed to him by his most hated and not-to-be-trusted professor.

Sudden exhaustion overcame him, and Harry closed his eyes. "Whatever you say, professor," he said with exhaustion. He was _exhausted._ So exhausted exhausted exhausted… "What're you doing here anyway?" he thought to ask, just as he was drifting off into a dark abyss.

"Dumbledore sent me," Snape replied darkly. "Told me to tell you happy birthday."

_Silly_, Harry thought to himself. _Silly of Dumbledore to send that great greasy git, even though it does make for nicely alliterative dream-thoughts._Then darkness closed in.

* * *

A/N: I'm a lazy researcher. If you find stuff that's incorrect or under-researched, please tell me. If I'm in the mood I might fix it.

Reviews, please! And please tell me if you hate it, so I don't waste anymore of my time writing it. Conversely, please tell me if it's the most brilliant thing you've ever read in your life so that I can quit my job and become a best-selling author as soon as possible.


	2. Depressingly Depressing Depression

**Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction**

_Rampantly rampant adverbs, outlandish adjectives, trite phrases, overused plot devices, and other general insanity unfolds in the most hilariously hilarious year ever! _

**BY LARGEMARGE**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the phrase "sick freak;" I ripped that off from Glenn Beck. Borrowed is what I really meant. Nor do I own Princess Bride, from which there is one reference in this chapter. And once again, I don't own Harry Potter; but if I did, I would most decidedly not be giving my stories away for free, but would be living it up on a yacht in the Caribbean.**

* * *

**DEPRESSINGLY DEPRESSING DEPRESSION**

Harry awoke to a hand ruffling his hair. "Foolish boy," a voice murmured. His eyes snapped open.

"Snape!" he said accusingly.

Snape jumped back, looking guilty. "Sorry Potter. Ahem." He wiped his hand on his rather darkly billowing robes.

"You said it was temporary insanity!" Harry said with exasperation.

Snape hung his head, for a moment looking rather foolish. "It's those puzzling fatherly emotions again. I mean, I know I hate you..."

Harry sat up. "Look, I don't even want to know. It's too weird."

"All right, all right. It won't happen again." Snape turned his back on Harry and took a moment to compose himself. When he turned around again it was with a familiar sneer on his face. "Awake at last, _Potter_?" he sneered. "Good. I believe your _family_ is waiting for you to prepare breakfast."

Harry sighed with relief. This was more like the Snape he knew and hated. He pushed his legs over the side of the bed, but Snape put a retaining hand on his shoulder, his façade breaking momentarily.

"Wait, Harry. Are you sure you're feeling well enough to get up?"

Harry pushed the hand away with exasperation. "Yes, _Snape_, I'm feeling much better."

"Oh, good." The sneer was back. "Well, perhaps you'd better get your lazy carcass out of bed then, _Potter_," he snarled. "As for me, I've got much better things to do than taking care of Dumbledore's little pet. Get me out of this stinking house," he muttered darkly to himself before disappearing from the room in a billow of robes.

Harry sighed with relief.

* * *

For a short while after Snape left things were slightly better with the Dursleys. At breakfast that morning Uncle Vernon actually said to him, "Uh...boy, I've got some leftover scraps of egg here you can eat," passing him the remains of his breakfast, though he looked rather longingly at the food as Harry devoured it.

The next morning things were back to normal, however. Harry was awakened by Uncle Vernon's bellowing yell. "Get down here and make us breakfast, you freak! And there's no greasy-haired vampire to save your bacon today!" Harry heard them all having a laugh over that down in the kitchen, so he hurried to get up and dress before going downstairs.

The days soon ran together, much the same. Harry was beaten daily by Vernon and usually ended the day by fainting from exhaustion, hunger, or pain; and sometimes a combination of all three. Luckily Snape never appeared again, something he was very grateful for. He had found the potions professor's visit disturbing, to say the least. He didn't even tell Ron or Hermione about it when he wrote them.

But the days weren't the worst part. It was the nights. The nights...when _he_ visited. When Harry was subjected to all the horrors that Voldemort perpetrated. Torture and killing and murders...night after night Harry's scar burned like it was trying to split apart his head. Though he tried to occlude his mind before going to sleep, nothing seemed to help, and Harry soon drifted deeper and deeper into a lethargic depression.

"Hey, boy, isn't it time for you to get back to that freakish school of yours?" Uncle Vernon asked him one night, after dumping Harry's beaten and broken body into bed after a particularly savage beating.

"School...Hogwarts...sssstime..." Harry slurred through the haze of his mind.

"Uh-huh. I thought as much," Uncle Vernon said. "Well, I suppose you'll be wanting to get some supplies and things. I'll drive you into London in the morning."

"Ssssokay...Kunkle..." Harry mumbled.

"Oh, now I insist," Vernon insisted. "First thing then. Get some rest, you sick freak. If you haven't got your health, you haven't got anything."

* * *

Harry dreamed of Sirius that night. Sirius, falling through the veil...over and over and over and over and over...in the background of his mind wildly wild evil laughter echoed. Harry awoke covered in sweat, piteously calling for Sirius.

But Sirius was dead.

Harry sat up in bed savagely, a dangerously dangerous glint of anger in his eye. Resolutely he moved to take a seat at his desk, pulling out some parchment and a quill.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore_, he wrote

_My life is an endless hell and I don't think I want to live anymore. Sorry I can't kill Voldemort for you; you might try Neville Longbottom. Despite his ineptness at everything magical, there have been several major hints over the last few years that he has dangerous powers lying latent within him._

_Signed,_

_Harry Potter_

There was nothing he could do, nothing that would help. His parents had died because of him; Cedric had died because of him; Sirius had died because of him. And there was nothing he could do. People continued to die, and Harry was helpless. He knew it was a well-known fact that all teenagers are riddled with angst, and so it was only natural that he should now be contemplating suicide.

He tied the epistle to Hegwid's leg, but the stupid owl refused to leave, somehow sensing what message the letter carried. After repeated attempts to get the idiot bird to fly away, Harry finally lay back with an exhausted sigh on his bed.

Well, who cared about the letter anyway. He didn't need Dumbledore's permission to commit suicide. How should he do it? Slit his wrists? Maybe some of Aunt Petunia's muggle sleeping pills? Uncle Vernon's gun? Maybe he could Avada Kedavra himself. If he stood in front of the mirror and shot the curse at himself, perhaps it would reflect off the mirror and kill him.

Harry mused over the possibilities for a while, finally deciding on the Avada Kedavra. It seemed like the most painless possibility, anyway.

"Avada Kadavra!" he yelled at the mirror, pointing his wand. Nothing happened.

Perhaps he wasn't angry enough. Perhaps he had to have more hate in his mind for it to work. He summoned up thoughts of Voldemort and Umbridge and Snape and Fudge and Wormtail and Malfoy and the Dursleys and every other person who had made his life a living hell.

"Avada Kedavra!' he shouted again. Still nothing happened.

Maybe he had to hate the person he was trying to kill. Harry summoned up all the loathing that he felt for himself, the reasons why he didn't feel he had the right to live any longer. He raised his wand for the final time and opened his mouth.

"Boy! What's all this noise in here!" Uncle Vernon burst in the door. "Put that...that _thing_ away, you _freak!" _he roared. "You're trying to curse your _mirror_? I swear, after everything we've done for you, it's never enough. I see I've been too lenient with you lately...well, I'll soon make up for that."

The wand fell from Harry's nerveless fingers and the only thought he could summon as Vernon proceeded to beat him to a bloody pulp was, _I'm even a failure at killing myself..._

* * *

The next morning Uncle Vernon didn't mention his late-night beating of Harry, only smirked as Harry whipped up breakfast, obviously favoring his right arm, which was broken, and breathing in painful little puffs, since all his ribs were broken. He was in such agonizing pain...such painful pain...such truly _awfully_ dreadful throbbing throughout his whole body...

"I'll take another piece of bacon," Dudley murmured.

Harry expertly flipped a piece of bacon onto his plate.

"Ready to go, Harry?" Uncle Vernon asked a few minutes later. "We're going into London to pick up some magic supplies," he explained to Petunia and Dudley.

"But...but..." Dudley protested.

"Don't worry," Vernon assured, "I still hate the _freak_."

"Oh, okay." Dudley settled back to devouring his breakfast and Petunia sighed with relief.

* * *

"Harry! We were so worried about you!" Hermione squealed, throwing her arms around him. "You've seemed so..._despondent _in all your letters..." Immediately, however, she pushed him away and looked closely at his face. "Harry! I can feel all your ribs! Haven't you been eating? And those dark circles under your eyes..."

"Oh, it's nothing," Harry insisted. _I've just been going through terrible agony the whole summer break, agony that nobody even cares about_..._agonizing agony, _he thought to himself.

"Oh. Okay, then," said Hermione. "My African safari was amazing!"

"Hey, mate," Ron said, coming up behind and throwing an arm around Harry's shoulders. He didn't notice Harry's painfully painful grimace due to his dislocated shoulder. "Sorry you couldn't come to the Burrow on your birthday. Dumbledore said he had it taken care of."

"Yeah, it was great," Harry said without emotion.

As Ron and Hermione moved down the street talking animatedly about upcoming classes, Harry silently cursed himself for being so inept at suicide. _I'll do better next time,_ he vowed to himself.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Now if you review I'll name my first child after you!


	3. Wherein Harry Gets Resourceful Again

**

* * *

Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction**

**BY LARGEMARGE**

**Disclaimer: Nah, still don't own Harry Potter books or any of the characters. If anything changes, I'll letcha know. **

* * *

**WHEREIN HARRY GETS RESOURCEFUL AGAIN**

A few days later Harry found himself seated in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. The trip to Hogwarts began, deceptively, as any other. Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Harry, Neville, and anyone else who felt like it were seated in the compartment together, avidly discussing the details of their summer.

Ginny, Harry couldn't help but notice, was beginning to look like a Swedish supermodel. But he immediately pulled his mind from that subject, reminding himself, _I'm in a lethargic depression; I'm moody and despondent; I'm unhappy and suicidal...I don't care about Swedish supermodels._

Everyone was so absorbed in themselves and their own adventures over the summer that they didn't even notice how quiet Harry was.

That is, until he started screaming.

* * *

"Harry! Harry, what's the matter?" Hermione frantically shook his shoulders and shouted to be heard over his screams. Harry was holding his head and writhing in agony. Such agony...agonizing agony...agonizingly agonizing agony...

His screams could be heard up and down the train. Suddenly he slumped over in a dead faint.

"Is he all right?" Ron gasped.

"I don't know," Hermione said tearfully. Students pressed in around the doorway.

"Somebody get some help," demanded Ginny. "What if he's dying or something?"

"Yeah, right," Ron scoffed. "You can't kill Harry that easily."

Suddenly Harry sat bolt upright. "It's Voldemort!" he gasped. "He's taken over the school! Killing all the professors!"

"Snape?" Ron asked hopefully.

"We've got to _do_ something!" Harry insisted.

"But Harry, what if it's a trick?" Hermione asked doubtfully.

"Yeah, Harry," Ginny mused thoughtfully. "You never have showdowns with Voldemort until the _end_ of the school year."

Harry paused, caught in that thought. "It's true," he admitted. "But I think he wanted to catch us unawares." He tensed as another white-hot sear of pain went through his scar. "He's waiting for us," he said tensely, gritting his teeth through the pain. "He wants the teachers out of the way so he can attack the train when it arrives."

"You're sure, Harry?" Neville inquired from the doorway.

Harry nodded.

"Then what can we do?" Ron asked helplessly.

Draco Malfoy pushed his way past Neville at that moment. "What's going on here, _Potter_? We heard your screaming all the way at the other end of the train. You're scaring the first years."

"Get out, Malfoy," Hermione said curtly.

"You're awfully testy, _mudblood_," observed Draco. "Wow, it felt good to get that out of the way. The first insult of the year is always a little awkward." He ducked as Ron predictably tried to take a swing at him.

"Get out unless you want to help, Malfoy. We're taking over the train," Harry said tersely.

Everyone turned to stare at Harry. "We're _taking over the train?_" Ron asked incredulously.

Harry resolutely squared his shoulders. "We're taking over the train," he repeated.

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Ginny asked doubtfully as a line of students, led by Harry, made its way to the conductor's car.

"Yeah, Harry. We don't even know if the train has a conductor. What if it's conducted by magic?" Ron spoke up. The line paused for a moment and everyone turned to look at Hermione, the walking encyclopedia.

She shrugged. "Beats me. I've never read anything about the Hogwarts Express."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, trying to guide his thoughts in his suddenly exhaustingly exhausted brain. "Well, we can't just wait for Voldemort's attack like a bunch of sitting ducks. If we can take over the train it'll give _us_ the element of surprise."

There was a murmur of assent throughout the group. Pointing his wand in front of him, Harry resumed the lead once again.

When they reached the conductor's car, Harry stopped abruptly and tried to form some kind of plan in his head. Nothing came to mind, so instead he nudged the door to the conductor's car open and peeked surreptitiously through the crack. And caught his breath.

"What is it, mate?" Ron breathed breathlessly behind him.

Harry shook his head. "You'll never believe me."

Ron nudged him in the back as though saying, _Come on, spill it_.

"It's an elf!" Harry whispered back.

"A house elf?" Ron asked in amazement.

"No, we're on a train," Harry reminded him. "A train elf."

Word spread quickly back through the group about the train elf conducting the Hogwarts Express. Harry, meanwhile, prepared for attack.

Suddenly Hermione appeared at his elbow. "What're you going to do, Harry?" she asked with concern. "You're not going to hurt it, are you? It's just an innocent little...train elf."

Harry grimaced. "I thought I'd invite him to have a cup of tea; that all right with you, Hermione? And maybe a nice piece of cake, too."

She frowned. "Well, you don't have to be snippy about it. I was just concerned, is all."

Harry took a deep breath to calm himself. "I'm not going to hurt him if I don't have to," he told her.

Hermione didn't look exactly pleased with that admission, but Harry didn't particularly care. His scar was once again searing with pain, and he knew that if they didn't succeed in their takeover of the train, it may be the last chance for Hogwarts and all of its professors.

* * *

It was much easier than any of them had anticipated. Harry pushed the door open, backed by fifty or so Hogwarts students, each with their wands out. Twenty curses flew by him before he could even open his mouth, and the poor...train elf never even had a chance. Hermione, unsurprisingly, flew to the elf's side.

"Well, now what?" Ron inquired, glancing around the conductor's car curiously.

"Drive the train, you idiots!" Hermione ordered while frantically pulling the poor train elf out of the way.

Harry stepped up and looked over the panel. "Well, I guess we want to get there faster, huh," he mused out loud.

"Speed up?" Ron asked. "Where's the speed up button on here?"

They stared stupidly at the dials for a while.

"What about this one?" Harry finally asked, pointing at a button.

"Speed of light?" Ron asked. "I dunno, mate. Sounds a little too fast to me."

"Oh, for the love of –" Hermione broke off, peering past them at the knobs and dials. "You haven't figured it out yet? Here." She reached past them and pushed the speed of light button. With a lurch everyone tumbled backward, and with another lurch the train was pulling to a stop, throwing everyone forward again.

An eerie silence filled the air.

"Are we there?" asked Neville uncertainly from the line of collapsed students.

Harry pushed his way through the students. "Wands out, everyone," he ordered. "D.A. members move to the front. First years stay on the train."

"Wow," said Ron. "I can't believe that button's been there all this time, and still we're forced to sit on this stupid train for hours at the start and end of every year."

"That's hardly important right now, don't you think Ron?" asked Ginny.

Ron and Neville insisted on being the first to emerge from the train, saying that Harry would be too easy a target. If they were expecting something dramatic and blatantly evil to be waiting for them, they were disappointed. All that greeted them as they stepped down from the train was the deserted platform at Hogsmeade Station.

* * *

"We've got to get to the castle," Harry insisted. "Voldemort's attacking; I know he is."

"I'm not going anywhere," Draco sneered, folding his arms. "And hopefully you're going to be expelled for this stunt, _Potter_, like you should have been long ago."

"Shut it, Malfoy," Ron said curtly. "You filthy _pureblood_." He paused. "Geez, that just doesn't have the same ring to it as mudblood, you know?"

"But Harry, it's going to take us too long to get to the castle from here! All the professors could be dead before then!" Hermione wailed.

Harry looked around helplessly for a moment. Suddenly a glint of genius appeared in his eye. "Brooms!" Harry said triumphantly. "Everyone get your brooms out. We're flying to the castle. And anyone without a broom, get a ride or walk. Run, I mean."

For a few minutes there was general chaos as students rummaged around in their trunks. Harry fumbled through his belongings and came up first with a fistful of invisibility cloak. Well, that might come in handy. He tucked it under his arm. A moment later he clapped hands on his broom. He didn't even wait. Seconds later he was zooming toward the castle.

"Harry! Harry, wait!" Hermione called after him. He didn't even look back.

* * *

Harry dropped to the ground at the entrance to Hogwarts. Again with the eerie silence. There was no sign of movement anywhere. Cautiously Harry approached the entrance, slipping the invisibility cloak around him as he went. Curiously, the door was ajar. Harry slipped inside.

The room was strewn with bodies.

An evil cackle filled the air. "My plan has worked, Wormtail," said a sadistic voice that sent chills through Harry's very _soul_. His heart sank. Despite his invisibility cloak, Voldemort could _see _him! How stupid of him to barge in here without any kind of a plan.

The evil cackle continued. "And now, Dumbledore," Voldemort continued, "You will die and then...all of those innocent little witches and wizards on the Hogwarts Express."

Wait! It _wasn't _Harry Voldemort was speaking to! Harry's head whipped around. There, in the corner. Voldemort's wickedly malevolent figure had Dumbledore backed up to the wall, the stooped figure of Wormtail beside him.

"You'll never get away with this, Tom," said Dumbledore calmly. "You know as well as I that if you kill me on school grounds, by default you become the headmaster of Hogwarts. Now, you don't want that, do you?"

Voldemort paused, caught in that thought.

"All those little minds to be molded and shaped, looking to you for guidance, running to you with every problem. 'I need advice on my love life, Mr. Voldemort.' 'Professor Snape is failing me in Potions, Mr. Voldemort.' 'I'm having trouble at home, Mr. –"

"Enough!" snarled Voldemort, waving his wand for silence. "He's right, Wormtail, curse his ugly carcass. But it doesn't matter. He's not what I came for today." He indicated with his head. "Bind Dumbledore and wait for my instructions."

Wormtail dragged Dumbledore away and Voldemort began pacing up and down, tapping his fingers together.

The door burst open at that moment.

"On guard!" yelled Ron, tearing into the room followed by fifty or so students with their wands out.

If Harry hadn't been so scared, he might have rolled his eyes.

* * *

A/N: Review and I pledge to vote for you in the next election.


	4. Showdown at the OK Corral

**HARRY POTTER'S SIXTH YEAR IN BAD FANFICTION**

**BY LARGEMARGE**

**Author's Note:** Wow, the few, the proud, the reviewers. Thanks for the reviews! The results are in, and my firstborn's name will officially be very strange. Oh, and I believe there are a few individuals out there who have earned my vote in the next election. I pledge you my full support.

**Disclaimer: Don't own nothin'. Oh, and the line, "volcanoes erupted, oceans boiled. The universe was in turmoil," does not belong to me either. It belongs to that genius of cartoon, Charles M. Schulz. And I don't own Princess Bride either. House points to whoever can identify what I ripped off from PB! Borrowed, I mean.**

* * *

**SHOWDOWN AT THE OK CORRAL **

Voldemort cackled evilly as he looked over the assembled group of students. "The train's early!" He rubbed his hands together expectantly. "Things are turning out better than I expected."

Ron kept his wand pointed carefully at Voldemort's nose. "What've you done with Harry?" he demanded.

"Potter?" Voldemort gave Ron a shrewd glance.

"C'mon, where is he?" Hermione chimed in, sounding slightly hysterical.

"Such loyalty," Voldemort mocked. "It really is sickening," he sneered sneeringly. With a sudden flick of his wrist his wand was pointed toward the group of students. "Who wants to be the first to die?" he asked in a conversational tone.

There was a collective gasp. Ron and Hermione instinctively pulled back towards the group.

Harry was about to bravely throw off the invisibility cloak and start throwing curses, no matter how foolhardy or dangerous it might be. Even if he were to get captured and tortured and killed, it would all be worth it to know that he had done it to save his fellow Hogwarts classmates. Harry was a very self-sacrificing individual. But also extremely modest.

Oh, yes.

But Harry started with surprise at that moment as Neville pushed his way forward to stand alone in front of Voldemort, his wand held out in front of him.

"No one's going to die today," Neville said coldly. "Except maybe you."

"Who're you?" Voldemort asked blankly.

"Neville Longbottom." Neville's voice began to quaver a little; probably from being so close to Voldemort. Harry could testify as to how disconcerting his truly _evil_ red eyes were...they could literally _suck_ the joy and happiness right out of your soul...not unlike a dementor, now that he thought about it. "P-prepare to meet your w-worst nightmare."

This time Harry did roll his eyes. What did Neville think he was playing at? _Harry _was the hero. _Harry_ was the one who was supposed to save the day. Not _Neville._ Harry felt a surge of resentment boiling up inside of him.

"Longbottom," Voldemort mused, a devilishly devilish glint coming into his eye. "I was going to Avada Kedavra the lot of you, but for a Longbottom I might take exception. How do you feel about the _Cruciatus,_ my boy?"

Neville's hand was clearly shaking. "I think you're bluffing."

Voldemort laughed sadistically. "I haven't had this much fun in _such_ a long while," he said while rubbing his hands together expectantly. "Perhaps I'd rather enjoy being the headmaster here after all."

Before he could follow that thought any further Neville shot off a curse. "Petrificus Totalus!"

But the only thing that came shooting out of Neville's hand was his wand, in a smooth, wide arc toward Voldemort. "Come on, then. Let's have 'em all," he said loudly. "Everyone's wands, in a nice neat little pile right here." He motioned with his hand.

If Voldemort thought they were going to give in that easily he was sorely mistaken. Scores of curses shot towards him, but in the end all he ended up with was a handful of wands and a sour expression.

"Now, that wasn't very nice," he groused. "A simple little request and what do I get?" He paused a moment and then answered his own question. "Animosity, that's what. You children need to learn how to behave. Now, any loose wands there? Don't make me come over there and get that myself, little witch."

Meanwhile, Harry was moving silently around the entrance hall, checking the bodies on the floor. That mountain over there had to be Hagrid. There was Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Order had arrived, then. And here was Lucius Malfoy, who was supposed to be imprisoned in Azkaban. Harry couldn't stop himself from ramming his foot into the man's ribs a few times just for fun. Voldemort didn't notice anyway. He was being swarmed by students.

"That's right," he was saying. "Just gather yourselves around. I want to have a heart-to-heart with the lot of you. Just us. You and Uncle Voldemort." The students were sitting down to form a circle around him.

Harry wondered what they were talking about, but he'd just discovered the location of the rest of the missing professors and death eaters. There were dim voices coming from the direction of the great hall.

-oo0oo-

"I demand to know what you're doing to Albus," Professor McGonagall demanded of a young death eater as Harry slipped into the room.

"Well you can demand all you want, but do it a little quieter, eh? I'm busy here," the death eater retorted, concentrating on a game of wizard chess. The death eater across from him snorted.

"Talk all you want, lady. He's never going to win."

Harry quickly surveyed the room. There was a cluster of professors and Order members bound at one end of the room. The two death eaters sat idly by playing wizard chess a few feet away, and nearby was a cluster of eight or ten more death eaters who appeared to be arguing, darting glances over their shoulders at the bound professors and Order members from time to time. The rest of the room was empty.

"Young man," began Professor McGonagall in her best lecture voice, "I've been teaching at Hogwarts since before you were born. And quite frankly, the day that I listen to a death eater is the day that –"

The young death eater pointed his wand in her direction. "Silencio!" Though her mouth continued to move, no more sound emerged. The death eater looked pleased with himself.

Moody was looking in Harry's direction, a significant expression upon his face. "So have you figured out where it is yet?" he asked conversationally.

"Where what is?" the death eater asked impatiently.

"The _thing_," Moody said significantly.

"_What_ thing?"

"The _thing_. You know, that's hidden in that _place_." He was sending meaningful looks Harry's way. "The _thing_ that can _destroy _Voldemort _forever_."

Moody's fellow prisoners were nudging and trying to silence him.

"You're nutters." The death eater moved his head impatiently. "There's no _thing_ that can destroy Voldemort."

"Oh. Well, if somebody _did _want to know where to find that _thing,_ all they'd have to do is GO FIND DUMBLEDORE," Moody said loudly. He was motioning his head furiously toward the door. Harry wondered what the man was trying to tell him. So, apparently, did everyone else around him.

"Will you knock it off, Moody?" Tonks asked irritably. "You're going to take somebody's eye out."

Rather than try to figure out what Moody was on about, Harry wisely decided to leave the room and see if he could come up with a plan to defeat Voldemort and save all of the wizarding world. Which was all in a day's work for him.

In the entrance hall, he noted that Voldemort had dimmed the lights. The floor around him was littered with students, listening avidly.

"First there was nothing," Voldemort was saying in a low voice. "Volcanoes erupted, oceans boiled. The universe was in turmoil. Then came...Voldemort." The lights flickered on and off.

"Ooooh," a first-year said.

At last Harry had had enough. He threw caution to the wind. He also threw the invisibility cloak off. "Stupefy!" he shouted.

Voldemort leaped to his feet. The first-year sitting at his knee keeled over.

"Harry!" Ron sounded relieved. "Oh, you had your _invisibility cloak_. You should have told us, mate."

Harry tried again. "Expelliarmus!"

Voldemort jumped out of the way and the spell hit Hermione, whose wand came flying to Harry.

"So the famous _Harry Potter_ shows his cowardly face at last," Voldemort mused. "Crucio!"

Harry screamed and writhed in agony on the floor. _Such horrible agony...his head was going to split apart...he was dying...dying...dying...DYING..._

The peaceful storytelling scene was broken and the students scattered around the room, watching the dreadful scene fearfully.

A while later, once Harry couldn't stand the torture anymore, he knew he was going to pass out and probably die. He had only one thought...he had to tell..._her_...the only one that really mattered...she had to know, before he died...

But it was all too much for Harry, and even as he opened his mouth and reached a hand out to _her_, the scene around him abruptly faded and dimmed, and he found himself falling into an endless void.

-oo0oo-

When Harry came to himself again, it was to discover he was imprisoned in an oblong room, his hands and feet chained magically together. What had happened? Though Harry wracked his brain, he couldn't remember anything after Voldemort's horrible torture.

Suddenly a sadistic laugh floated on the air. "Awake at long last, I see. You deprived me of the enjoyment of finishing my torture, Potter. That wasn't nice."

"Ooh, let me, let me!" Wormtail piped up from somewhere behind Voldemort. Harry was having trouble focusing his vision as he looked up at the blurry figures standing over him.

"We're all going to enjoy this, Wormtail," Voldemort said. "Since none of us has got anything better to do, bring the boy out here and we'll all torture him for a while. Then, once we get tired of that, I'll probably kill him. Oh, and at some point we'd better get that information from him."

Wormtail rubbed his hands together expectantly as Voldemort left the room.

"So it's to be torture, then," Harry said dully as Wormtail loosed him from the chains. "Well, I can cope with torture."

Wormtail shook his head violently.

"Don't believe me?" Harry asked speculatively.

Wormtail shrugged. "Well, you've survived Voldemort four times now, so you must be exceptionally brave. But no one withstands...death eater torture."

Shortly Harry was dragged into a large room where several handfuls of death eaters were assembled.

"First, Potter, I will offer you the chance to give us the information we seek without being submitted to the indignities of torture," Voldemort offered calmly

There were several gasps of alarm at this admission. The death eaters really wanted to torture Harry really bad, because gratuitous violence is what most evil people enjoy more than anything, as we all know.

"Tell us the prophecy," Voldemort demanded in a low voice.

"Never," Harry proclaimed resolutely. "Not even if you torture me and Avada Kedavra me. I'll never tell, because I'm the Boy Who Lived."

"You're going to be the Boy Who Died very shortly," Voldemort growled. "_Tell us the prophecy_!"

"Death first!" Harry shouted back.

Then the torture began. It was awful, so awfully terribly heinous and evil that Harry lost consciousness almost immediately. This irked the death eaters no end, so they insisted on enervating him every time he passed out just so that they could enjoy his pain as he suffered and writhed in agony on the ground, his screams echoing through the room.

Finally there came a time when Harry passed out and, try as they might, the death eaters couldn't revive him.

"Get him out of my sight," Voldemort commanded with disgust. Two death eaters hastened to pick the boy up and drag him from the room. "I'm not through with him yet," Voldemort muttered to Wormtail, eyeing Harry's limp, inert form with loathing. "Not by far."

-oo0oo-

"Potter! _Potter!_ Wake up, you idiot boy!"

Coming back was a gradual thing. Every bone in his body ached; his head pounded with pain. Even his _toenails_ throbbed with _agony_..._agonizing agony..._

"_Potter!_" Harry was abruptly shaken violently back and forth. "There is no time for this!" the strangely familiar voice hissed into his ear.

"Ssssmatter?" Harry slurred.

"Get up! The dark lord will be back at any moment! If you'd like to get out of here in one piece, I suggest you _get up!_"

The blurred shape in front of Harry's face transformed into the familiar personage of his most dreaded and hated professor...Snape.

"Whassa...Snape?" Harry mumbled.

"Potter, _move!_" Snape dragged him to his feet and threw Harry's body over his shoulder.

Harry was uncomfortably shaken to full consciousness as he was jerked and thrown about on Snape's shoulders as the man thundered through the intricate hallways of the building.

"Snape!" a hideous voice suddenly shrieked from somewhere behind them.

"Hang on," Snape muttered as he tore around a corner and out the front of the building. "Take hold," he instructed Harry, producing a bottle of hair wax from his pocket. He muttered something under his breath, and then Harry felt a tug behind his navel and his feet left the ground.

Moments later he tumbled to the ground and collapsed.

"Idiot," Snape was saying as he picked him up and began to carry him towards Hogwarts castle, a sight which gladdened Harry's soul. "Had to go and get yourself captured by Voldemort. Now he knows. _He knows!_"

"What does he know?" Harry murmured tiredly.

"He knows where my allegiance lies, you thick-brained Gryffindor! This is all your fault!"

"What about those fatherly emotions you were having towards me?" Harry couldn't help but ask. "I thought you were starting to like me."

Snape stiffened. "I do _not _like you, Potter. Not in the least. Don't ever, _ever _say that again."

Harry lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, feeling stupid for even bringing it up. After all, he didn't give a rip if that stupid git Snape liked him or not. Did he?

"I -- I've been taking a potion to keep those feelings at bay," Snape finally admitted, sounding rather foolish.

"Keep taking it," Harry murmured with exhaustion. "Maybe you ought to start taking a double dose just to make sure..." and with that, Harry promptly faded out of consciousness for the last time.

* * *

**Coming Next:** Harry recovers and classes begin. New DADA professor (of course), and who is this _her_ of whom Harry speaks? Hey, I have bad grammar. It's the love of Harry's life, of course. But who is it? And why doesn't he want her to know? Blah blah blah and more angsty bad writing, of course.

**Author's Note:** I was not intending to focus this fic on just the "Snape mentors Harry" side of things when I began it. It's just kind of turned out that way so far. But rest assured that I will attempt to parody many other fanfiction storylines that I know and love, but there will be absolutely NO SLASH. I am diametrically opposed to slash. And if you've got suggestions for what you'd like to see parodied, give 'em over!


	5. Healing and Other Stuff

**Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction**

**BY LARGEMARGE**

**_Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, y'all. Virus troubles on my computer. 'Nuff said._**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, blah blah blah.**

* * *

**Healing and Other Stuff**

"Oh, Madame Pomfrey, isn't Harry _ever_ going to wake up? I'm so terribly worried about him," a sultry but terribly worried voice spoke near Harry's ear.

"Now, now. You'd better run to class, hadn't you?" Madame Pomfrey reprimanded.

Harry struggled to open his eyes, desperate to know who was so worried about him, as well as who was the owner of that terribly sexy voice.

But alas, when he finally pried his eyelids open, it was to find a blurry Madame Pomfrey staring down at him.

"Finally decided to wake up, did you, Mr. Potter. How're you feeling?"

Harry pushed himself to a sitting position and donned his glasses. "What happened?" he asked with confusion, looking around him. What was he doing in the hospital wing? And more importantly, who was the owner of the sultry voice that was so worried about him? Cho? Hermione? Maybe even Ginny, Harry thought. He seemed to have a dim memory of her, looking somewhat like a Swedish supermodel...

"Captured by the dark lord, Potter," an irritated voice reminded him from the doorway.

Harry glanced over to catch Snape's malevolent glare. "Oh, yeah, that," he answered feebly, as the memories came flooding back.

"I've just brought Potter's supply of potions for the day," Snape said, setting a tray down on the bedside table. The tray was covered with five or six different potions of varying color and hue.

"Wait a minute," Harry spoke without thinking. "Why is _he_ making my potions? I'm not drinking any of _that_."

Madame Pomfrey joined Snape in glaring down at him, and Harry shrunk back into the bed.

"I don't make potions for my own amusement, _Potter_," Snape sneered at him.

"And I don't have time to do everything around here," Madame Pomfrey said, putting her hands on her hips. "What do you think I am, a miracle worker? I slave and I slave, and it's never enough. I watch over these idiot children when they try to kill themselves..." she walked away, muttering to herself. "I swear...it's never enough..."

Harry stared mutely at Professor Snape.

"You will drink these potions, Potter, and you will not complain, or it's fifty points from Gryffindor."

Harry looked at the potions, then back at Snape, who raised an eyebrow.

"Well?"

Harry folded his arms. "Maybe you're just trying to poison me."

Snape sneered in disgust. "Use your brain, _Potter._ After risking everything to save you from the dark lord, why would I try and kill you now?" He paused. "Although it is tempting, I'll admit."

Harry glared. "Fine, I'll drink your stupid potions. But this doesn't mean I like you."

Snape sniffed and whirled to go in a billow of dark robes. Suddenly he paused and turned back. "Not even a little?" he asked in a small voice.

Harry was spared from replying when a voice from the doorway called at that moment, "Harry!"

It was Hermione, and after a brief hesitation at sight of Snape, she rushed to Harry's side anyway, followed by Ron.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked, as Snape left the room.

"He's creepy," Ron observed.

"I'm fine," Harry said, though he eyed the potions a little warily.

"Oh, we were so worried!" Hermione held him in a tight hug that was clearly platonic to everyone watching. Which was only Ron, who felt a little jealous anyway, even though it was only platonic. Purely platonic. Meaning it didn't mean anything other than friendship. Because Harry and Hermione were only friends. Yes, sir. Nothing beyond that at all. Platonic. Yep.

"What was it like being held captive by You-Know – I mean...Voldemort?" Ron asked, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from platonic hugging.

Harry shivered and looked down. He hadn't quite brought his thoughts around to that yet. That..._horror._ That truly terribly awful horrible experience that was destined to plague his dreams for months and years to come, or until the end of this fanfic, at the very least.

"Ron!" Hermione shoved him. "How could you bring that up? Sometimes you're so _tactless_, I swear..."

They moved a few feet off and held an intensely whispered conversation while Harry stared at his knees, trying to recover from the overwhelming anguish that had overwhelmed him.

Finally the two moved back toward him.

"Sorry, Harry," Ron apologized with a lopsided grin.

"It's fine," Harry reassured, now more collected himself.

"Have you heard any of the news?" Hermione asked, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

"What news?" Harry sat up straighter, sounding interested. "I haven't heard anything. Are the professors all right? Hagrid was hurt, wasn't he? Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Hermione reassured. "Stunned. There was only one casualty. On our side, anyway."

"Mrs. Norris," Ron chimed in, sounding gleeful.

"Filch's cat?" Harry asked, confused.

"Mm-hmm. One of the death eaters tried to stun Filch, and the cat jumped in the way. Apparently the shock of it killed her. And then they ended up stunning Filch anyway." Ron snickered.

Hermione shoved him. "I thought it was very noble," she reprimanded him.

Ron snorted. "Yeah. I only hope Crookshanks suffers a similar fate very soon."

She glared.

"Guys, the news?" Harry reminded them.

"I apologize for _Ronald_'_s_ behavior," Hermione said stiffly, turning away from Ron. Behind her Harry saw Ron roll his eyes.

"You've missed the sorting, Harry," Ron said.

"And the feast," Hermione added.

"Yeah, classes started two days ago."

"Wonderful," Harry said. "I'm already behind."

"Don't worry. You can borrow my notes," Hermione immediately chimed in. "And all the professors are really understanding, really. I mean, you can't help it you were kidnapped by Voldemort."

"And you don't need to worry about Defense Against the Dark Arts," Ron reassured. "Professor Hodgepodge has started us on stuff we learned in second year. So far she thinks we're all geniuses."

"Hodgepodge?" Harry asked blankly.

"Buttercup Hodgepodge," Hermione recited knowledgeably. "Former Auror and graduate of Hogwarts."

"Oh."

Ron nudged him. "Not bad to look at either, mate."

Hermione snorted in disgust. "Honestly, Ron. I can't believe you just said that."

He held his hands out. "I can't help it if it's true!"

"You're disgusting." She folded her arms and glared.

"Er...well, I guess we'd better be going," Ron said after an uncomfortable silence.

Hermione finally spoke up. "Yeah, it looks like you've got a few potions to drink there, Harry." She gave him one final entirely, wholly, purely platonic hug with the sole purpose of conveying only friendship and nothing more. Ron gave him a thumbs up behind her back, mouthing the words, _Professor Hodgepodge...what a babe!_

Harry was adept at lip-reading, among other things.

When they were gone he quickly downed the potions.

"Have you a moment, Harry?" a quiet voice spoke from the doorway. Dumbledore moved into his line of vision.

"Hello, Professor," Harry said dreamily, settling back against the bed. "So tired...sleeping potion, maybe..."

"I just wanted you to know how glad I am you're back among us," Dumbledore said. "You've saved us all from certain death once again."

"Sssnothing, Professor," Harry said vaguely, blinking very slowly in an attempt to stay awake.

"Well, you sleep now, Harry. But when you're feeling more up to it, there's something I need to talk to you about. Something _very_ important..."

Harry's eyes drifted closed.

"The way you're going to defeat Voldemort once and for all..." Harry thought he heard Dumbledore say, before he drifted into a pleasant doze.

* * *

He dreamed of Voldemort. And awoke screaming.

"Harry! Harry, what's the matter?"

The sultry voice was back.

Harry shoved his glasses on his face and sat up.

A Swedish supermodel had come to visit.

"Ginny?" he asked blankly. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you," she said. "To see that you were all right...with my own eyes..."

"Well, I'm fine," Harry said brightly.

"But you were screaming," Ginny reminded him, laying a hand on his arm.

Harry jumped and shoved her hand off as though it were a red-hot poker.

Jumpy, Harry was.

Ginny looked momentarily confused. "Are you sure you're all right, Harry?"

Harry considered for a moment. "I just had a bad dream," he finally admitted.

"About Voldemort?" she asked bluntly.

He hung his head. "Yes," he whispered. "I wish it would all just go away. I wish he would stop tormenting me."

"Oh, my poor Harry," Ginny murmured, holding him close in a clasp that he was certain was meant to convey feelings that were slightly more than platonic.

But he couldn't tell her. Even though _she_ was the one...the only one that really mattered...Harry knew he couldn't involve her in his dangerous life. He was constantly dueling it out with Voldemort, and he couldn't ask Ginny to be involved in a life so uncertain. Even though she already was and his reasoning was completely faulty...he just _couldn't_ ask her to do that...not for _him_, even though she more than likely loved him _madly,_ just as he loved her..._madly..._

"Harry?" Ginny's voice jolted him back to reality.

"Uh...ahem. Ginny." Harry straightened and ran a hand through his hair. "Yes. As you can see, I'm perfectly fine. You should probably go now."

"Are you sure?" she asked uncertainly. "Wouldn't you like me to stay...and _hold_ you some more, maybe?" she asked hopefully.

Harry cleared his throat. "No, you'd better go. You probably have better things to do, anyway."

"Than be with _you, _Harry?" she asked reproachfully.

"Yes, just go then," he said with a wave of his hand. "I'm tired anyway."

"Well...okay. If you're sure," she said hesitantly.

Harry settled back down in the bed, pulling the covers up around his ears. "Goodbye," he said in a muffled voice through the blankets.

"Goodbye," she said, sounding a bit forlorn.

Then she was gone.

After a moment Harry shook his fist at the ceiling. _Curse you, Voldemort!_ He raged silently. _If it weren't for you...I could be with my lady love! We'll settle this one day soon! Once and for all!_

When he went back to sleep, his nightmares were even worse.

* * *

_Author's Note: OC's annoy me. Alas, I found I had to insert one. Forgive me._

_You like? Let me know. Hate it? Tell me that too. My wish for all kind reviewers: May the bird of paradise fly up your nose._


	6. Wherein Everyone is Out of Character

**Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction**

**BY LARGEMARGE**

Author's Note: Thank you to those thoughtful individuals who left me kind reviews and were visited by the bird of paradise. And to everyone else, may you be cursed with pus-filled boils all the rest of your days. Oh, and thanks for reading.

**Disclaimer: No, really. I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

**_Wherein Everyone is Out of Character_**

Harry was leaving the hospital wing. At long last.

"Now, you take it easy, Mr. Potter. No more getting captured and tortured by dark wizards," Madame Pomfrey scolded Harry a few days later as he prepared to leave the hospital wing.

"Yes, ma'am." Harry scooted out the door before she could change her mind and make him stay.

Just outside the door he stumbled over a dark form and almost fell.

Voldemort! Voldemort had come back to get him again...

Oh. It was just Draco.

"What're you doing, Malfoy?" Harry asked with annoyance, after he caught his balance.

Draco pushed himself up from his crouched position. "I...I was just wondering...if I could talk to you." His eyes darted nervously around.

Harry watched him with suspicion. "What for."

He hitched a shoulder uneasily. "It's kind of...private. Could we go somewhere else?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Sure, Malfoy. But why don't I just save you the time and let you hex me right now."

A look of frustration flitted across Draco's face. "That's not what I want! I just wanted to tell you something. Where we wouldn't be overheard."

Harry folded his arms. "I'm not going anywhere with you, Malfoy. If it's that important, say it now. Otherwise, I've got other things to do." He made as if to move away, and Draco held up a hand.

"No, wait! Fine, I'll just tell you now." He looked around nervously again. "I just wanted to tell you...I'm a changed man."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Man?"

Draco nodded. "Yes. All those mean things I've said and done to you over the last few years...I take it all back. Can we hang out and be friends now?"

"Are you mocking me, Malfoy? I'm not in the mood for it." Harry turned to go.

"No, wait! I'm not mocking you! I'm deadly serious! I've decided not to join Voldemort anymore. In fact, I'm going to see if I can switch houses. Secretly I've always wanted to be a Gryffindor."

Harry turned to face Malfoy. He felt like he was going to be sick. "So just like that I'm supposed to believe you? I don't think so."

Draco clasped his hands together. "Oh, please, Harry. I know I've been just awful to you, but at last I've seen the light! Won't you please let us be friends now?"

"All right, Malfoy. You've had your fun. Now go away and leave me alone."

"Great Merlin's curly black fuzzy beard, Harry! I'm trying to be _nice_ here!" Draco exclaimed in frustration.

"Well, stop it. It's creepy." Harry turned on his heel for the last time.

"You haven't heard the last of this, Harry Potter!" Draco called after him. "We'll settle this soon!"

Harry pondered the strange conversation as he made his way to Gryffindor tower. First Snape, and now Draco. What was going on around here? Maybe Dumbledore would have some idea about it. He'd bring it up the next time he talked to him.

While his thoughts were on the headmaster, Harry suddenly remembered Dumbledore's last words to him. Something about defeating Voldemort forever. What had he been talking about?

With this question in mind, Harry detoured toward Dumbledore's office. Outside the entrance, however, he encountered Professor McGonagall.

"Aah, Potter," she said, giving him an assessing look. "Madame Pomfrey released you?" she asked, as though she wanted to make sure had hadn't just up and left on his own.

"Of course," he replied. "I need to see the headmaster. Is he in?"

"I'm sorry, Potter, no. Professor Dumbledore is currently away on important business." She lowered her voice. "Order business."

"What kind of business?" he asked. "Does it involve me?"

McGonagall gave him a stern look. "Why should it involve you, Potter?"

Harry hesitated. "Oh, I just wondered why...you know, someone from the Ministry of Magic hasn't come to interview me about being held captive by Voldemort and tortured and stuff."

McGonagall waved a hand impatiently. "Oh, that. You see, the Ministry doesn't know about it, Potter. Officially."

"Officially?" Harry was confused.

"Officially you got on the wrong train and made it to Hogwarts late."

Oh, the injustice of it all! During his days in the hospital wing, the one thought that had brought him comfort was dreaming of his name in the history books as the only person to ever successfully hijack the Hogwarts Express. And now...he wasn't even _officially_ on the train!

"But Professor –" he began to protest.

"Not now, Potter," McGonagall cut him off. "I need to get to class and so do you. Now get going."

Harry heaved a sigh and made his way to Gryffindor tower. Life was so unfair! As an angst-ridden teenager, that was the one thing he was sure of. After collecting his books, he heaved another sigh and left.

* * *

Harry's return to classes was a momentous occasion. 

As he walked down the hallway, shouts of "Good to see you, Harry!" and "Glad you're doing better," and "Hey, look! Harry's back!" abounded in front of and behind him. Harry was pleased to see that everything seemed to have gotten back to normal at Hogwarts.

Then there was the moment in the hallway when he ran into Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Hermione threw her arms joyfully around Harry in a completely innocent and platonic and oh-so harmless and companionable but still otherwise meaningless hug. Ron was silent and moody after that. Ginny's mood was suspiciously similar to her brother's.

"Hey, is that...Professor Hodgepodge?" he suddenly asked, catching a glimpse of the figure in the doorway to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

The girls refused to answer his question and Ron was still pouting, but he finally answered a reluctant, "Yes."

Harry whistled. "She's beautiful."

Ginny burst into tears and ran off.

"What's her problem?" Ron asked.

Harry gazed longingly after his lady love, pondering the folly of tracking her down, taking her into his arms, and telling her that she was the one, the only one, the only one there'd ever be, the single biggest love of his life, the one he'd gladly die for, the one who made living worthwhile, the one who set his heart on fire, the only one who...

"Harry! Wake up. We're going to be late for class," Ron said, waving a hand in front of his face and saving the reader from further clichés.

"Oh, yeah. Right. Sorry." Harry gave himself a shake.

* * *

"So pleased to finally meet you, Harry," Professor Hodgepodge said, batting her eyelashes at him while simultaneously handing him a large fudge brownie. "I made these just for you. I'm very good around the kitchen. I don't use house elves, you know. I've found that being a domestic person is so much more fulfilling. Don't you think so?" 

"Uh-huh," Harry said, wondering why he'd ever thought Ginny was the one. He'd always dreamed of being involved with an older woman. Hadn't he? It seemed like he had.

"I'm so pleased that you're feeling better," she continued, looking at him out of concerned large brown eyes. _Beautiful_ brown eyes. _Lusciously adorable truly loveable eyes_, Harry suddenly found himself thinking. He gave himself a shake when he realized he was just staring.

"Uh...yeah, right. Feeling great," he muttered, before moving past her to take a seat next to Ron.

"Told you she was gorgeous, mate," Ron muttered.

Harry realized he had been holding his breath and let it out in a long exhale. "I'm in love," he breathed.

Hermione gave them both a disapproving glare.

He stuffed the brownie in his mouth. "Brownie's good too," he said around a mouthful.

"She made you brownies?" Ron asked enviously. "Lucky."

"What about Ginny?" Hermione asked reproachfully.

"Ginny who?" Harry asked blankly.

Hermione made an exasperated sound.

Professor Hodgepodge asked them to perform some absurdly simple magic from their third year which even Neville managed not to mess up.

At the end of class she asked Harry to stay behind.

Harry moved uncertainly to the front of the classroom as it emptied of students.

"Uh...you wanted to talk to me, Professor?" he asked nervously.

"Have a seat, Harry," she indicated the front row.

He sat.

"What are we going to do with you, Harry?" she smiled at him.

He shrugged. "Yeah. Uh...sorry I've been gone, professor."

"Well, that's all right. I'll just have to tutor you, I suppose. So you don't get too far behind."

"Well...okay," said Harry, thinking mostly about all the time he was going to get to spend with her, and not on the fact that strictly speaking he wasn't behind at all, as they still had yet to pass the third years.

There was a knock on the door. "Buttercup? Are you –"

It was Snape. He stopped short at sight of Harry. "Aah, Potter," he sneered. "I might have expected you to get a detention on your first day back."

"I did _not_ –" Harry began, but Professor Hodgepodge cut him off.

"Oh, now, Severus, it's not a detention. I merely asked him to stay behind so we could speak about getting him caught up on all that he's missed."

"Of course," Snape sneered. "I'll wait for you in the hall, Buttercup."

"Such a charming man," she said once he had withdrawn. "So sweet and caring. He brought me flowers this morning, you know. And a perfect gentleman. Everything I've ever wanted. And more," she added.

Harry tried not to feel sick to his stomach. True love so recently born and already snuffed out. And by Snape, of all people! The sudden thought that something was going on between his beautiful new DADA teacher and his disgusting potions professor was too much. He was going to be sick.

"I've got to go." He stood up abruptly.

"Oh? Don't you feel well? You don't look well at all."

Harry shook his head. "No. I think I need to lie down."

After giving Harry some extra reading assignments and homework, Professor Hodgepodge dismissed him. He was only too glad to leave.

Snape stopped him in the hall. "Like your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Potter?" he asked in amusement.

Harry frowned. "She's okay," he said cautiously. But seeing Snape brought the sick feeling tumbling back, and suddenly Harry was puking his guts out on the cold stone floor.

With a sudden sharp intake of breath, Snape was by his side. "Harry? Are you all right? Oh, my poor little Gryffindor..."

Harry jumped when he realized Snape was attempting to comfort him by awkwardly patting him on the back.

"Ah...I'm fine, professor," he said, jumping out of his reach. "Just a little queasy. Sorry about the mess."

With a hurt look in his eyes, Snape turned away to clean up Harry's mess with a wave of his wand and a muttered, "Scourgify." He also muttered something about, "Stupid potion. I've got to make it more powerful. _Twice _as powerful. Can't have this happening again..."

When he turned back, it was obvious that he was _not_ in the mood to do anything comforting or kind of any sort.

"Have you been drinking your potions, Mr. Potter?" he asked coldly.

"Of course I have," Harry spat at him. "You keep threatening me with points from Gryffindor if I don't."

Snape glowered. "Careful, _golden boy,_ I'm still your professor."

Harry glared right back. "_Don't_ call me that," he said coldly, his voice like steel, the thick, reinforced kind that's impossible to break through except maybe with a lot of explosives. That kind of steel. Really thick. And cold, really cold. That's what Harry's voice was like. But smooth too. Smooth like creamy yogurt. Well, anyway.

After a staring contest which ended in a draw, Snape finally spoke. "You will be pleased to learn, Potter, that the headmaster has asked me to continue your occlumency lessons."

Harry opened his mouth, ready for protest.

"It seems your frequent nightmares have become the talk of the hospital wing. You haven't been occluding your mind, Potter," Snape accused him.

"Yeah, sorry, it kind of slipped my mind," Harry said. "It's on my to-do list right after 'defeat Voldemort' and 'save the world.'"

"The only reason I haven't given you detention yet, Potter, is because I don't want to punish myself anymore than I have to," Snape said in a low, dangerous voice. "But believe me, there are other ways to dole out punishment."

_Yeah, like stealing the woman of my dreams right from under my nose,_ Harry thought tragically to himself. He folded his arms. "Are you done, professor?" he asked impatiently. "Can I _go _now?"

Snape waved a hand. "Leave me."

Which Harry did gladly. Vowing to himself, he wouldn't be taking occlumency lessons with _that_ particular professor if he had anything to say about it.

Dumbledore had a lot to answer for.

* * *

Author's Note: Hope my OC doesn't annoy you too much. 

Review!


	7. Random Stupidity and Lurking Evil

**Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction**

**BY LARGEMARGE**

Author's Note: Get ready…in this chapter, the scene I have ALWAYS wanted to see between Professors Snape and McGonagall.

**Disclaimer: If you think I own Harry Potter, you're wrong. Thanks for playing, though. **

* * *

**Random Stupidity and Lurking Evil**

"Harry! Harry, get up! It's quidditch practice, remember?"

Harry groaned and rolled over. "It's _Saturday. _What time is it? It's not even light out."

"It's four a.m.," said Ron, bouncing on the edge of Harry's bed. "Don't you want to get an early start?"

"No," said Harry, pulling the covers over his head. "Besides, you're the captain now. You didn't need me when you had tryouts last week; why do you need me now?"

"But Harry," Ron pleaded, "Aren't you just _itching_ to play quidditch? After being banned last year…"

Harry snored loudly to show he was asleep.

"Oh, I forgot. Hedwig brought you this." A package landed on top of Harry. With a groan he sat up and began to open it.

"Ron, it's a broom! The new Nimbus Ten Million!"

"Oh, Harry, you have all the luck," Ron said enviously, then paused to reconsider his statement. "Well, I mean…besides your parents being killed by Voldemort. And having to live with your awful relatives. And your godfather dying and Voldemort trying to kill you…" he ticked each item off on his fingers. "Well, you know, all the other bad stuff that's always happening to you. Anyway, who's it from?"

"There's no note."

Ron shrugged. "Well, I'm sure it's not from Voldemort," he comforted.

Harry paused. That hadn't even occurred to him. "Yeah, I'm sure you're right. Why would Voldemort send me a broom?" he concluded, racing to get dressed.

Ron and Harry practiced in the darkness of the quidditch pitch for a couple of hours. Once the sun rose, the rest of the team straggled out on the field, looking half-awake and decidedly grumpy. It was a fairly uneventful practice. Finally Ron called that practice was over and the team, looking a little more awake, straggled off the field.

Harry soared to the ground, ecstatic at the performance of his new broom. It _did_ feel great to be on a broom again.

The Slytherin team was waiting at the edge of the field. "Harry," Draco nodded in his direction. His teammates looked at him like he was crazy.

Harry pretended he didn't hear and would have walked by, but Ron stopped directly in front of him. "How _dare_ you talk to Harry, Malfoy! You'll pay for that!" He punched Draco in the nose.

The field exploded into a fistfight between the Gryffindor and Slytherin quidditch teams. Harry suddenly found himself in the middle of the brawl.

"What's going on here?" a voice thundered.

Everyone froze. Harry had just taken a hit to the nose and had his hands around someone's neck…Malfoy, now that he looked. He immediately let go.

Snape was rushing toward them, his robes billowing around him. "Ten million points from Gryff—" he began, but was cut off as Professor McGonagall zoomed past him.

"A billion points from Slytherin!" she shrieked.

Snape stopped. "You can't do that!"

"Oh really?" Professor McGonagall put her hands on her hips.

"Well, _two_ billions points from Gryffindor, then," he said smugly. "So _there._"

"And for sportsmanlike conduct, _three_ _billion_ points _to_ Gryffindor," she interjected smoothly.

"Sportsmanlike conduct?" Snape echoed. "You can't be serious."

"It was a very clean fight," McGonagall defended. "No hits below the waist on the Gryffindor's side."

"Well…" Snape paused, obviously trying to come up with a retort. "Well…a trillion points to Slytherin…for being Slytherin!" he finished triumphantly.

"What? That's ridiculous!" McGonagall protested.

"You just can't come up with a good comeback," he said haughtily.

McGonagall turned away from Snape with a sniff. "Just what exactly is going on here, Potter?" she addressed him.

Harry's face turned red. Why did she have to ask _him_? "Uh…well, you see, professor…" He wiped at the blood streaming from his nose and attempted to formulate a clear answer. "We were just…playing around, professor. You know."

"Uh-huh." She didn't seem impressed.

"It was Malfoy!" Ron piped up. "He insulted Harry!"

"I did not!" Draco said indignantly. "I hardly even opened my mouth, and then _he_ hit me!" he pointed angrily at Ron.

Everyone exploded into an explanation, and finally McGonagall held up a hand. "Enough!" she shouted. "You three, Potter, Weasley, and Malfoy, come with me. We're going to have a little talk with the headmaster about this."

"He's back?" Harry asked with surprise.

McGonagall gave him a stern look over her shoulder as she turned and didn't answer. Harry fell into step reluctantly next to Ron. Draco followed behind.

"A billion points from Slytherin for being cheeky," Harry heard McGonagall snap at Snape ahead of them.

"A billion points from Gryffindor for being arrogant," he countered.

Harry and Ron exchanged a look of bewilderment.

The bickering between the two professors continued the whole way to Dumbledore's office.

"Cinnamon gummy bears," McGonagall snapped the password, because for some reason it's important that Dumbledore's password be announced in every fanfic.

The ride up the staircase was silent. But when they reached the top, Dumbledore called to come in before Professor McGonagall even had the chance to knock.

He gave Harry a sorrowful look over the top of his glasses as the entire group clustered into his office.

"Fighting, boys?" he asked sadly.

Harry wiped at his bloody nose sullenly. He was still mad at Dumbledore for asking Snape to resume his occlumency lessons.

"Bloody Weasley started it," Draco spoke angrily. "If he hadn't –"

"Me?" Ron was enraged. "That git insulted Harry!"

Harry stood silently clutching his broom, which for some unknown plot device he had happened to bring along with him.

"Silence!" Dumbledore thundered. "Harry, what do you have to say?"

"Dunno," he mumbled, staring at the ground. "I…didn't see anything."

"Potter." Snape spoke in a strange voice. "Where…_where_ did you get that broom?"

Harry clutched the broom defensively. "It was a gift."

"Looks like the one from my kitchen," Snape said.

"Whoa! That's the new Nimbus Ten Million!" Draco came nearer to admire the broom. Harry held it out of his reach.

"It's mine," he said tightly.

"Accio broom," Snape snapped.

"Give it back! It's mine!" Harry yelled, as the broom flew out of his hands.

"Headmaster, it's clearly full of dark magic," Snape said, examining the broom closely. "You see these markings here…"

"It is not! I rode it all morning! There's nothing wrong with it!" Harry shouted.

"Calm down, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Let me see the broom, Severus."

Snape handed the broom over.

"You just don't want me to have it because I like it more than you," Harry muttered to Snape.

"_What_ was that, Potter?" Snape asked, a dangerously dangerous edge to his voice.

Harry suddenly regretted his statement. "Um…nothing. Nope, nothing at all." Professor Dumbledore was staring at him, a strange expression on his face. So was McGonagall. And Draco, now that Harry thought to look. The only one not paying any attention was Ron, who was still growling and baring his teeth at Draco.

Dumbledore finally spoke. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ban you three from the first quidditch game," he said quietly.

"What? But that's not fair!" Ron squealed, his attention finally diverted from Draco.

"Care to make it the whole season, Weasley?" Snape growled.

Ron shut up.

"And now I'd like to have a word with Harry," Dumbledore continued. "Alone."

Harry exchanged a look with Ron and shrugged his shoulders. He avoided looking at anyone else.

The room emptied slowly, with mutters of, "A thousand points from Slytherin for greasiness," and, "A _million_ points from Gryffindor for stupidity."

Draco even muttered, "Good luck, mate." Harry shot him a glare.

Once the room was empty, Dumbledore indicated a chair. "Have a seat, Harry."

Harry continued to stand. "You…" he sputtered, then continued. "_You_ told Snape to continue my occlumency lessons!" he accused.

Dumbledore sighed and laced his fingers together. "Yes, Harry, I did," he admitted.

"But _why_?" Harry complained.

"Well, you see, Harry," Dumbledore explained, "I can't really tell you why. It would defeat the last scene we have together this year when I explain to you what mystery's been going on all year and why I've inflicted all sorts of uncomfortable things on you."

Harry stared at the headmaster without comprehension. "Huh?"

"Occlumency lessons are one thing I can't explain to you," Dumbledore continued, "As well as why I'm going to take this broom away from you for the rest of the year."

"What?" Harry exploded.

"And why Professor Snape and Mr. Malfoy are acting so friendly towards you all of a sudden. Yes, I know about it," he said with a dismissing wave of his hand as Harry eagerly started forward, questions clearly about to bubble forth from his mouth. "It's no use asking, Harry. It's practically a cardinal rule by now. _No, _Harry. I _cannot_ explain to you what is going on until we get to the end of the school year."

Harry folded his arms and dropped into a chair, pouting. "I suppose you can't even tell me how I'm going to defeat Voldemort forever."

Dumbledore leaned forward. "Now that I _can_ tell you," he said.

With raised eyebrows Harry sat forward too, eagerly. "Well?" he asked with anticipation.

"It's a very delicate procedure, Harry," Dumbledore began, stroking his beard. "But what it all comes down to is that you must…" he paused for effect before continuing, "…kill him."

"Kill…him?" Harry asked, wondering if he'd heard right.

"Yeah. So he won't ever come back again."

"Gee…that's wonderful, professor," Harry said sarcastically. "How long did it take you to come up with that?"

"The Order's been working on that theory for the last few months."

Harry jumped up and slammed around the room for a while. "Well, that's just bloody wonderful!" he finally exploded. "I'll get right on that. Can I go now?"

Dumbledore considered. "Yes, Harry. But take care," he cautioned. "There are evils out there, things too terrible to speak of –"

"I had a feeling you were going to say that," Harry muttered.

"—and I fear these things are closing in on all of us. But most importantly, on _you_."

"Well, thanks for that," Harry said.

He didn't know where to go. He was so angry he wanted to hit something. Unconsciously he found himself heading to the room of requirement, hoping for some punching bags to appear.

Draco was crouched outside the door, sobbing into the tops of his knees.

Certain that this was a sign of one of those "evils too terrible to speak of," Harry almost ignored Draco altogether. But at the last moment he ripped his hand off the doorknob and whirled angrily. He was going to punch him. He really was…

"What's your problem, Malfoy?" he asked shortly, folding his arms and glaring.

Draco lifted his head, his face tearstained. "Oh, Harry," he said with embarrassment, wiping his sleeve across his eyes. "Uh…nothing's the matter. Just got something in my eye." He poked his finger in his eye a few times. "There, I think I got it out." He wiped his sleeve across his eyes again and pushed himself to his feet.

"Good," Harry said, turning away.

"It's just…" Draco began. Harry heaved a sigh and turned back.

"Just?" he asked, his boredom evident.

"Have you thought about what I said before? Can we be buddies now and hang out? I was thinking maybe the Hogsmeade visit in a couple weeks…we could get a couple butterbeers…" Draco trailed off at the look on Harry's face.

"Get lost, Malfoy," he said angrily. "I'm tired of this game."

"But it's not a game, Harry!" Draco pleaded, a look of absolutely _heart_-_wrenching_ anguish on his face. "You just don't understand…it's really not what it seems…" he was blubbering by now.

Harry was coldhearted in the face of Slytherin suffering. "Why don't you owl your father?" he growled. "Maybe _he_ cares."

Draco rubbed at his face miserably. "Oh, Harry," he said, moving closer and looking around nervously, "I've just _got_ to tell you something. But you've got to promise _never_ to tell anyone!" he whispered anxiously, his eyes continuing to dart around.

Harry was slightly intrigued. "Okay," he agreed.

"M-my father," Draco began.

"Is a slimy snake?" Harry supplied. "Yes, we all know."

"No." Draco shook his head. "Well, yes. But…I mean…Harry, my father beats me," Draco finished in a rush.

Harry stared unbelievingly at Draco. "He…_does?_" he finally sputtered.

"Yes," Draco continued in a small voice. "I've never told anyone that." He exhaled loudly. "It feels so good to get that off my chest."

Harry couldn't believe it! Poor Draco, all this time enduring an abusive father! He never would have believed it, not of Lucius Malfoy, that pillar of the wizarding community. But now it all made sense! Now he could understand Draco!

"Oh, Draco, now I understand!"

"You do?" Draco asked joyfully. "So we can be friends now?"

"Of course!" Harry slung an arm around his shoulders. "What do you want to do first? We could go hang out at the library together," he suggested.

"Okay!" Draco agreed. "I love to study! I'll help you with Potions. I'm really good at it."

"And I'll help you with Defense," Harry jumped in. "Let's go, buddy."

* * *

(The author is retching at this sappy turn of events and is unable to write further. She is also strongly considering beginning the next chapter with the words _Harry woke up._)

A/N: Review! And please _please please_ give me your ideas! Is it a dream? Or has Harry really turned into a gullible and incongruent creature of fanfiction?


	8. Harry Wakes Up

**Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction**

**BY LARGEMARGE**

**Author's Note**: Okay, guess what? The "Harry and Draco become best friends" plotline is one I can't bring myself to buy into, not even to make fun of it. Well, yet, anyway. Since there wasn't much in the way of feedback on this topic from my devoted readers (a bit of humor there), I've chosen to go with the dream theory. Sorry to disappoint anybody. By the way, is anybody actually reading (and enjoying) this? See my note at the end, then.

Oh, and by the way, I think I have been remiss in thanking my reviewers, so here goes: Special thanks and cyber chocolates for Sir Slytherin, Larna Mandrea, Mystic Moon6, MyLuckyStars, Joe, Azure Ocelot, There Goes My Gun, Ana, G4SPR, OjkSpattergroit, Mknotr2d2, LT2000, Hedlund, DAZY, Maartje, Sevkitty, Eggo Waffles, Not a Homicidal Maniac, Queenofdarkness, Wallywuzheer, and Violets-in-Spring.

And my special double fudge chocolate peanut butter cyber brownies for my return reviewers Larna Mandrea, MyLuckyStars, Ana, Hedlund, Sevkitty, and Eggo Waffles (I hope no one's allergic). Cheers!

**Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. We don't even look alike. Well, not much.**

* * *

_**Harry Wakes Up**_

Harry's eyes flew open. He was shaking and covered in sweat. Immediately he rolled to the side of his bed and vomited.

"Oh, Cho…you're so sweet…" Ron was mumbling in his sleep.

Harry rolled back to the center of his bed and lay still, shaken and queasy.

"No one can catch a snitch quite like you…"

He was going to be sick again, just from listening. "Ron."

"I like you too, Cho…you're so soft…"

"Ron, wake up!" Harry yelled, too queasy to get up and smother Ron with a pillow like he wanted to.

There was a rustling noise from the direction of Ron's bed. "Shmatter, Harry?" Ron mumbled.

Just thinking about Ron and Cho caused another wave of nausea and Harry lay still, incapable of speech.

"Harry?" Sounds of movement came from the direction of Ron's bed. "Smatter, mate?" He padded to Harry's side. "What's – ewww!" He backed off a step. "Did you have another nightmare?"

Harry swallowed thickly.

"Who is it this time?" Ron demanded. "It's not…Mum, is it? Harry, if that snake's got her –"

He swallowed again and this time managed to speak past the queasiness. "It's not that, Ron. As far as I know your mum's fine."

Ron heaved a sigh of relief. "Well, what is it, then? Do I need to get McGonagall? Who's dying?"

Easing himself up on his elbows, Harry frowned. "Who said anyone was dying?"

"You said you had a nightmare," Ron returned impatiently. "So who is it this time?"

"Just shut up for a minute, will you?" Harry asked irritably.

Uncertainly Ron backed off another step as Harry pushed himself into a sitting position and slumped over. He heaved a sigh.

"It was Malfoy," he finally said.

"Malfoy?" Ron asked uncertainly. "Malfoy was dying? But that's brilliant, Harry! This is what you're upset over? Let's wake everyone up and celebrate!"

He made a move toward Seamus's bed, but a mumbling voice brought him up short. "Are you kidding? Like anyone could sleep in here with the two of you yapping away."

"Yeah, shut up already," Dean complained.

Neville snored loudly.

"But Malfoy's –" Ron began.

"Malfoy's _not_ dead," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Then what'd you wake us all up for?!" Seamus shouted.

Ron gave Harry a look. "Why don't we go downstairs, Harry."

Seamus snorted.

Dean grunted.

Neville snored.

* * *

Harry followed Ron into the common room, feeling a little less queasy with each step.

Ron stopped in front of the fireplace and turned. "Well, let's have it. Is someone dead or not?"

"No one's dead, Ron!" Harry said impatiently. "Why do you automatically assume –"

"Then what's the idea of –"

"It was a _nightmare_, Ron. You have no idea." Harry shuddered violently as he recalled the horrible details. "It was…_awful_."

"Another nightmare, Harry?"

They both jumped, surprised to hear a voice coming from the corner of the room.

"Hermione?"

She put down her book and approached them.

"What're you doing up?" Ron asked stupidly.

"Studying, obviously," she said, giving him a look. "I don't want to get behind."

"Behind? Oh, yeah," Ron said. "We haven't even been in school a month. How're you going to get behind, I'd like to know?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron. Would you stay on topic?" She turned back to Harry. "Was it horrible, Harry?" she asked sympathetically.

Harry suddenly found himself drowning…_drowning_…in the sympathy of Hermione's eyes.

"I…I…" he stuttered, suddenly flustered.

Ron looked from Hermione to Harry and back again. He frowned. "Er…yeah, Harry. Was it about…_You-know-who_?"

Harry gave himself a mental shake and looked away from Hermione. "Yeah…that's what I was _trying_ to tell you. It was about Malfoy, and it was the most horrible…" Harry broke off, contemplating just how truly horrible it had been.

"What _about_ Malfoy?" Ron prompted, obviously trying to be patient, but just on the verge of losing it. "Something about our fight on the quidditch pitch today?"

"No, not that." Harry shook his head. "He…he wanted to be my friend."

"Your friend?" Ron hooted with laughter. "Oh, that'll be the day."

Hermione frowned. "You know, Ron, Malfoy _is_ actually a person. He has feelings."

Ron frowned. "Why're you sticking up for Malfoy all of a sudden?" A sudden jealous light sprang into his eyes. "_What's going on between you two?_"

Hermione shrugged. "Nothing. I still think he's a creep. I just said that because whoever's writing this story wants to show that I don't just stick up for house elves. I also stick up for poor misguided bullies, even though they may call me names and humiliate me at every possible opportunity."

"You have such a big heart," Ron said with admiration. "That's one of the things I…uh…_like_ about you."

Harry cleared his throat loudly. "Ahem. We were talking about me. Me. Remember?"

The two turned back to him. "Sorry. You were saying?" Hermione asked.

Harry turned away from them and stared into the fireplace as he recounted the horrible details. "In my dream…I likedhim. I _wanted _to be his friend. I'm telling you, it was creepy. I even…put my around him."

"That _is_ disturbing," Ron agreed. "No wonder you were sick."

Harry didn't bother to tell them that Draco had, in fact, approached him with an offer of friendship already. That was something he didn't want _anyone_ to know about.

"Are you going to be okay, Harry?" Hermione put a hand on his shoulder.

Harry was stunned at the jolt of electricity that went through his body, not unlike sticking your tongue on a twelve-volt battery (something the author would not recommend), and the two immediately jumped apart.

"What is it? What's the matter?" Ron asked.

"Uh…nothing," Harry said, avoiding looking at Hermione. _What was that_? he asked himself. _Hermione? But we're just friends!_ Aloud he said, "Just…jumpy, I guess."

"Well, okay," Ron said reluctantly.

Harry and Hermione avoided looking at one another and Ron looked confused. "Guess we better get back to bed," he finally said.

"Yeah," Hermione jumped in. "I think I'm done studying for the night." The two started moving for their separate stairways. "Coming, Harry?" Hermione asked. She stopped. "That is…I mean…not to my bed. I just meant…going? Are you going to bed?" She looked nervously at Ron.

Harry shuddered and ran a hand over his face. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep. You two go. I just need to…think."

"Are you sure?" Ron didn't seem to want to leave him in his delicate state of mind, especially when he and Hermione were suddenly acting so non-platonic.

Harry nodded vigorously. "Yeah, you go. No sense in all of us missing out on sleep."

Ron shrugged and made for the staircase. Hermione reluctantly followed suit. "If you're sure…" she trailed off.

Ron chuckled again before disappearing up the stairs. "You and Malfoy…friends…sure, and Snape wants to be your father, too." He snorted with laughter as he ascended the staircase and disappeared from sight.

Harry frowned into the fireplace. Ron's guess was a little too close for comfort. Although nobody would know it from Snape's behavior. Actually, just the opposite. Snape seemed to hate him more than ever lately.

"Uh…Harry?"

He jumped. Hermione was back.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wondered…what was that jolt of electricity thingy that just passed between us? It can't possibly mean that…we're madly in love with each other, can it?"

He flushed. "No, I'm sure it can't mean that. Can it?. I mean, I'm in love with Ginny. Or is it Buttercup? I can't really remember which one it is right now…"

She frowned. "Right. And everyone knows the real reason there's so much tension between Ron and I is because we're really crazy about each other. Wildly, madly in love. Me and Ron. Yep."

They stared intensely into each other's eyes.

"Oh, Hermione.." he began, suddenly unable to stop himself. He grabbed her hand. "I can't keep it in any longer…I'm just wild about your bushy brown hair…your teeth…and your intelligence drives me mad…"

"Is it possible?" she breathed. "Can I really be in love with…you?"

Harry smothered her hand in kisses until the words registered, at which point he dropped her hand like a hot coal. "Why do you say it like that?" he asked.

"Like what?"

"Like that. Like…'can I really be in love with…_YOU_?' Like I'm so terrible to be in love with."

She shrugged. "Well, I didn't mean it like that, Harry."

"Oh." Still, he wasn't entirely appeased.

"But it's not like you're the greatest catch in the world, either," she continued after a small pause.

"Oh, so now the truth comes out," he said angrily, backing off a step. "What's so wrong with me?" He was truly offended now.

She folded her arms. "Well, you're always flying off the handle. You're so stupid and headstrong sometimes. Like that fight with Malfoy this morning. What was that about? What, he looks at you cross-eyed and you decide to beat him up? And besides, everyone knows you're going to end up dead someday, which will only lead to more heartbreak."

The passion coursing through his veins was abating. "Well," he said. "Well then." He looked around helplessly for a moment, debating what to say.

Hermione cleared her throat uncomfortably.

"Well," he said again. He yawned and stretched. "I…think I'd better get to bed. I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, me too." She took a step away.

He headed for the stairs.

"Harry?"

"_What_?" he asked, pausing with his foot on the first step, certain that she probably just wanted to insult him further.

"I…I still like you. We can still be…platonic, can't we?"

He shrugged. "Sure, whatever," he said, like he couldn't care less, even though his emotions were raging, boiling within him…his heart broken and shattered…he would never be the same again…never never never _never..._

And disappeared up the stairs.

* * *

"Hey, Harry, when are we starting the DA again?" Ron asked over breakfast a week and a half later.

Harry glanced up in surprise. "The DA? But…Umbridge is gone. We don't need –"

Hermione gave him a look. "We don't _need _it? Honestly, Harry. At the rate Professor Hodgepodge is teaching us, maybe we'll be up with the fourth years before the end of the year. We'll never pass our NEWTs if she has her way."

"Professor Hodgepodge is a good teacher," Harry said loyally, although without much enthusiasm. Ever since his pseudo-romantic interlude in the common room with Hermione, he'd decided to put off girls forever. They were a curse, that's what they were. Didn't bring anything but unhappiness and confusion.

"Still can't believe she's seeing that greasy git, though," Ron muttered. The news was flying around the school like fire. Snape and Hodgepodge sitting in a tree. K-i-s-s-i-n-g. "She deserves better."

Hermione glared at them both. "The DA?" she reminded them. "We won't need to keep it under wraps this year either. I bet the headmaster will be all for it."

Harry shrugged halfheartedly. "Yeah, I suppose so." He was still thinking about his barren love life, pushing his food around his plate.

"I'll put a notice up," Hermione said.

"Just don't make it tomorrow," Harry said absently. "I've got Occlumency with Snape."

"When did you start that up again?" Ron asked. "I thought you learned everything there was to know."

Harry shrugged and wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. "Refresher course," he mumbled.

"Oh." Ron devoted his attention to his breakfast once again.

* * *

The next evening found Harry making his way to Snape's office for "remedial potions," just in case anyone asked. He took a deep breath before knocking.

"Get in here, Potter, you slimy little…"

Harry wasn't sure he'd heard right, but he opened the door and walked in just the same.

Snape was standing there, wand out, smirking at him. "So you decided to come after all, did you?"

Already Snape was in a bad mood. This didn't bode well for the evening, Harry reflected as he closed the door. "I thought that was fairly obvious," he mumbled, rummaging around for his wand.

"Why…you impudent little whelp! Legilimens!"

Before Harry could protest that he was not ready, Sirius was falling through the veil…Uncle Vernon was beating him to a bloody pulp…Hermione was rejecting him…oh, the humiliation…

Harry was on his hands and knees, gasping. His face was wet.

"I wasn't ready! That wasn't fair!" he shouted once he got some air back into him.

Snape smirked. "I'm a Death Eater. No one ever said I had to play fair." He indicated the Pensieve on his desk. "And I feel I should tell you, Potter, that if you even so much as _look_ at my Pensieve, I'm going to curse you into oblivion."

Harry averted his eyes.

The entire evening went like that. Harry was relieved when Snape finally delivered his concluding remarks. "Well, you're pretty dang awful at this, Potter. Ever considered taking up knitting instead of magic? Very relaxing, that. Anyway, you're even worse than last year, if it's possible. I've half a mind to tell Dumbledore to just letthe dark lord have you for all I care. I _had_ expected some improvement over the summer holiday, but I suppose I was forgetting two very vital things. One, you're a Gryffindor. And two, you're a Potter."

Harry growled. "Well, _you_ need to wash your hair once in a while."

"Get out of my sight," Snape sneered, turning his back.

Harry barely held himself back from Avada Kedavra-ing Snape in the back. Besides, it probably wouldn't have worked anyway. Though the trip to Azkaban would have been worth it.

* * *

**My note at the end**: If you're actually reading this, would you please please please (please please) review and tell me so?!! (That's five pleases…that's some serious begging…so get down there and hit that review button! …please?). As much fun as it is to write this, I've got better stuff to do if nobody's reading anymore. Adios!

This fic's in trouble. As it's headed, it's looking like there's going to be a Jerry Springer-type confrontation at the end, instead of a Voldemort confrontation. Yikes! (You know, just picture it: Ginny and Buttercup and Hermione come to blows over Harry, while Harry fights off Ron and Snape. Perhaps I should rename this "As the Wizarding World Turns" or something). And I am fond of ellipses. Sorry if they drive you crazy.

Flame me, baby!

(I've always wanted to write that at the end of a fic)


	9. Wherein the Author Feels Sarcastic

**Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction**

**BY LARGEMARGE**

**Author's Note**: Many thanks to kind reviewers. You rock and I'm visiting all your fics as soon as possible and leaving ten reviews apiece. Well, don't hold your breath. But you still rock!

**Disclaimer: Same as all the other chapters.

* * *

**

_**Wherein the Author Feels Sarcastic **_

In keeping with all good bad fanfics (oxymoron?) there will now be an unexplained and completely arbitrary passage of time.

"Harry! I've come to visit you!" Remus said while cuffing Harry on the shoulder.

"Professor," Harry said blankly. "Where've you been? I expected you to visit me in the hospital wing weeks ago!"

"Oh, that," said Remus. "First of all, don't call me professor. It bugs me. And secondly, you see, I was busy doing…important stuff. This is the first chance I've had to get away."

"Oh," Harry said. "Well, you're just in time for the Halloween feast! Are you going to join us?"

"I don't think so, Harry. I was actually wondering if you had time for a little talk."

"About what?" Harry asked curiously.

"Oh, you know. Everything. What's going on in your life? Are you still brooding about Sirius all the time? How's school? Is there anything particularly pressing that you'd like to get off your chest?"

"Um…well…there is this _one_ thing…"

Harry and Remus chatted while they strolled in the Forbidden Forest, because naturally that is where the author put them.

Suddenly Harry glanced at the sky. "Remus…isn't tonight…a full moon?" (dun dun dun!)

The moon emerged from behind a bunch of clouds. "Dang, I knew I forgot something," Remus said, while he transformed into a wolf and began chasing Harry.

Harry screamed and ran for a while but somehow managed to elude Werewolf Remus. But then he got caught and Remus bit him and – dun dun dun – then, of course, left him alone, so Harry limped back to the school by himself and crawled into bed. He was devastated. Now he was a werewolf. What was he going to do? His friends couldn't know because…well, they just couldn't, okay? He would have to hide it from everyone, and his life was no longer worth living and what was he going to do and –

KAPOW!

The author knocked him out.

* * *

Harry was moody and withdrawn for quite a number of days after that. Plus he snapped at everyone and had bad dreams. The first quidditch match, between Gryffindor and Slytherin, was that Saturday. Since Harry was banned from the first game and he was already feeling so moody and stuff, he refused to even watch the game. Instead he sat in his room staring out the window feeling all irritable and thinking how he'd like to kill Remus.

After the game, which Gryffindor lost, (everyone blamed it on Harry and Ron) Ron and Hermione whispered a lot and kept giving Harry looks, because it's unnatural for a teenage boy to get moody and withdrawn, especially Harry.

At their next weekly D.A. meeting, Harry decided not to go, because he didn't need to learn to defend himself now that he was a werewolf. All he needed to do was sit around and be moody. And if anybody threatened him, he could just wait for a full moon and then rip their throat out.

Afterwards there was an intervention. Harry was sitting on his bed staring dully out the window at the driving rain, thinking about how crappy his life was. Suddenly all the important characters from the first five books that weren't dead ran into his room.

"Harry, we're just here to help," Hermione said.

Harry looked up and gave her a disinterested stare.

"Yeah, mate. We're all worried about you," Ron chimed in. "This has got to stop."

Harry turned away.

"And we're not leaving, either!" Neville piped up. "No matter what you do! Well, I actually live here, so you can't really make me leave anyway."

"Yeah, and Harry, we all really care about you a lot, and that's the reason we're here," said Cho.

Ron looked at Cho jealously.

Hermione looked at Ron jealously.

Harry examined his fingernails with fascination.

"Harry, it's important to remember in a situation such as this what The Quibbler always says," Luna said.

Everyone ignored Luna. "Please just stop doing this to yourself, Harry. It's tearing me apart," sobbed Ginny, who was trying out for a part on The Young and the Restless.

Draco pushed his way to the front of the group. "Harry, if you don't stop being so moody, we'll never get to fully explore our relationship and become friends at last!"

"Who let him in here?" Ron asked. "Get him out."

The mob drove Draco from the room. Harry took the opportunity to whip out his invisibility cloak while no one was paying attention. Then he went off and hid somewhere for a while until everybody forgot about the little intervention.

* * *

That weekend there was a Hogsmeade visit. Harry went because he was interested in exploring the Shrieking Shack a bit. He figured he'd better find his way in and everything and set up house, since he'd be spending a lot of time there from now on.

So when everyone else suggested going off to get some sweets and butterbeer and junk, Harry made some excuse and ran away.

He crept stealthily toward the Shrieking Shack. Then he wondered why he was being so secretive, 'cause there wasn't anyone around to watch. So he climbed in a window and looked around.

"Hey, Harry! What're you doing here?"

Harry jumped about a mile. "Remus! What are _you_ doing here?"

Remus was sitting at the kitchen table eating a peanut butter sandwich. "I'm just having lunch! You hungry?"

He shook his head and sat down. "Not particularly. But what are you doing in the Shrieking Shack?"

Remus shrugged. "Oh, I hang out here all the time. Place just feels like home to me. Are you really sure you don't want anything to eat? There's bologna in the fridge…and carrots…"

Harry shook his head. "No. But Remus, there's something I have to tell you. It's very important."

Remus took another bite of peanut butter sandwich. "Okay. Shoot. I'm listening."

He tried to find the right words. "Well, you see, I'm a werewolf now." Yeah, those were the right words.

"Harry, no!" Remus said with shock, dropping his sandwich into the dirt and grime on the table. "I don't believe it!"

"Yes, it's all too terribly true," Harry said dramatically.

"But how did this happen?" Remus demanded, jumping to his feet. "Where's the werewolf who bit you? I'll kill him!"

"It was _you_, duh!" said Harry. "What other werewolves do I hang out with?"

"Oh." Remus sat down again. "Oops."

"Yeah, thanks a lot," Harry said bitterly.

"Well…let me see the bite," Remus said desperately. "Maybe it wasn't very bad…"

"It's _healed_ now," Harry said. "_Duh_."

"Did it get all swollen and full of pus?" Remus asked.

"No." Harry perked up. "Does that mean I'm not a werewolf after all?"

"Nah. Just means it wasn't infected." He picked up the sandwich absently and began eating again.

"Well? Don't you have anything else to say?" Harry demanded.

Remus shrugged. "What _can_ I say? It's not like I can undo it now. You better tell Professor Snape, though, so he can make you some Wolfsbane potion. Hey! Now we can hang out together when we both turn into werewolves! What fun that will be!"

Harry stood up abruptly. "I wouldn't hang out with you if you were the last werewolf on earth," he informed Remus shortly. "Thanks for nothing." He stormed out of the building.

If it was possible, Harry was even more silent and moody after that. Although thankfully nobody staged anymore interventions.

* * *

The next week he had Occlumency again with Snape. He was a little frightened, because he knew if he let Snape get in his head, the first thing he was going to find out was that Harry was now a werewolf. Harry didn't want Snape to know. He had already decided he didn't need any Wolfsbane potion. His plan was when the full moon came around, he was going to go hang out in the dungeons, and when he transformed into a werewolf, he'd completely eradicate all the Slytherins. He'd probably get a medal of honor or something. Probably Order of Merlin, first class.

So anyway, he walked in Snape's office and had his wand out already because no way, by golly, Snape was _not_ getting in his head, not this time, not ever again…

"You're late and you're acting weird," Snape observed. "I don't even wanna know why. Legilemens!"

Harry was already prepared. "Accio kryptonite!" he shouted. A green meteor blasted through the wall of Snape's office. Harry deftly caught it and held it in front of his head.

"Potter." Snape sounded amazed. "You _blocked_ me!"

"Even Superman can't see through kryptonite," Harry said smugly.

Snape looked faintly amused. "All you need now is a helmet made out of that stuff."

"I'm already working on it," Harry told him.

Snape let him go early that night.

* * *

A week later and Harry was starting to get downright nervous. The full moon was approaching. He was going to transform into a wolf for the first time! Would he be scary? Would girls think he was hot? Or would they just run screaming from him? Maybe he should go hang out with Remus in the Shrieking Shack after all.

"Harry, what's been bothering you lately?" Hermione demanded one morning at breakfast. "Your marks are falling in all our classes. Haven't you been sleeping well? Are you having visions? Do you need to talk to Dumbledore?"

"I'm fine," Harry said shortly. "You wouldn't understand."

"But I understand _everything_!" Hermione wailed.

"Knock it off, Harry. You're upsetting Hermione," Ron said.

Harry got up and left.

"Harry!" Ginny ran after him. "I just wanted to say…I still like you. Even though you're all moody and sensitive all the time. I think it's sexy."

"Ginny," Harry began tentatively. "Would you like me…even if I was a…werewolf?"

"Oh, Harry," she breathed. "Of course I would! I'd love you if you were a – did you say a werewolf?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, I don't know," she said. "A werewolf? I never really thought about it. Why? Are you thinking of becoming one?"

"Uh…yeah," Harry said. "The lifestyle really appeals to me. I'm just exploring my options right now. You know."

"Oh. Well, of course you know I'd still…like you. And mum would like you no matter what. She even likes Percy."

Harry thought it was the best news he'd heard all month. "Ginny, you're the best friend a guy could ask for," he said. He reached to give her a hug.

"Gotta go," Ginny said, jumping back. She ran away.

* * *

Two days later Harry awoke feeling terrible. Today was the day, he could just tell. If he could – just – drag himself down to the Shrieking Shack…he'd _die_ there. That was how horrible he felt. Really, really horrible.

On second thought, if he was going to die, why not play a good joke on somebody? So Harry went down to Snape's office, broke in, and hid under his desk. He figured that once he was dead it would take Snape a few days to find his body, and by then his office would have started to smell bad. If he was lucky, Snape would never be able to get the smell out.

A little farewell present courtesy of Harry Potter.

Unfortunately for Harry, it didn't take Snape that long to find his body. He wasn't even _dead _yet when Snape found him.

"Potter!" Snape dragged him out from under his desk. "What do you think you're doing in my office? Under _my_ desk?"

"Mmmdyin'…Profsssser…" Harry mumbled, only half conscious. "Mmmma werewuffff…"

"Delirious," Snape muttered. "Idiot."

* * *

Harry woke up a while later in the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey was fussing around him.

"Aah, Mr. Potter, glad to see you're among the living," she observed.

"Harry!" Ron and Hermione ran to his side, because of course they were always in the hospital wing whenever he was there, just sitting around waiting for him to wake up. Oh yeah, and Ginny was there too.

"You've been out for days, Harry," Ginny said, her lips trembling. Because for some reason in this fic she had been reduced to a quivering pile of jelly.

"Days?" Harry sat up and fumbled for his glasses. "Days?" he demanded as he put them on. "What happened?"

"The next time you're bitten by a werewolf, Mr. Potter, I suggest you _tell_ someone," Madame Pomfrey said.

"Did I turn into a werewolf?" Harry asked eagerly. "Was I vicious? Did I bite people?" He turned to Ginny. "Did I look…hot?"

Hermione dissolved into giggles. "Oh, Harry, don't you ever pay attention in class?"

"You have had a bad case of Werewolf Flu, Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey informed him. "If Professor Snape had not discovered you, it's likely you would have died."

"But…when did I turn into a werewolf?" Harry asked. "The full moon must be days past now."

"You're _not_ a werewolf, Harry," Hermione said, still laughing. "Is _that_ why you've been so moody all this time?"

Ginny took his hand. "Oh, my poor Harry…" she said.

"But…but…why not?" he asked with dismay. He had got rather attached to the idea of being a werewolf, now that he thought about it.

"The bite never broke the skin," Hermione said. "If you'd written that essay properly back in third year you'd have known. Mild werewolf bites only result in Werewolf Flu."

Harry got all moody again. "This stinks," he said. "I wanted to be a werewolf and kill all the Slytherins and stink up Snape's office. This isn't fair!"

Remus walked in eating a peanut butter sandwich. "Harry! You're awake! And you're not a werewolf. Isn't that great?"

"My life is ruined," Harry said shortly. "Thanks for nothing."

Remus looked mildly surprised.

"Teenagers," Madame Pomfrey whispered to him with a shrug. "They don't make any sense."

"Tell me about it," Remus said, taking another bite of his sandwich.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Good "bad fanfics" have Harry in the hospital wing at least every other chapter. I am falling sadly below my quota. This is only his second time! I apologize profusely. I'll try to do better. And as far as I know, I'm the inventor of Werewolf Flu. Hope all of you saw that convenient plot contrivance coming before it smacked you up the side of the head. Oh, and by the way, I guess technically it's actually _lead_ that Superman can't see through, not kryptonite, but it's way more exciting for Harry to summon a meteor rather than some boring old lead, don't you think?

Now REVIEW!


	10. Murder & Mayhem, Same Old Same Old

**Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction**

**BY LARGEMARGE**

**Author's Note**: Thanks again and Happy Christmas to my reviewers and readers!!

**Disclaimer: Don't sue me because I don't own anything.

* * *

**

**_Murder & Mayhem, Same Old Same Old_**

It was snowing at Hogwarts. Because it's only logical to jump from Halloween to full-blown winter. Harry shuffled along through the snow, thinking depressing thoughts. Since the author had finally realized that he needed some more Voldemort in his life, a dark shadowy figure suddenly appeared before him in the snow. Oh, the pain, the agony! Harry's head felt like it was going to burst open. He fell down in the snow, writhing in agonizing agony…truly, the pain was so terribly painful that –

"Spare me, Potter," Voldemort said darkly. "I just wanted to stop by to let you know that I still hate your guts and I'm planning on destroying you as soon as possible. But right now it's the Christmas season, so I've got to go torture some muggles. Lots and lots of them. And murder and mayhem! All over the place! Bwahahahahahaha!" He broke off into a hacking cough, then cleared his throat. "Ahem. But don't worry, I'll be back."

And with that, Voldemort disappeared.

Harry lay in the snow for a while, until the pain subsided. Then he got up, nearly frantic. He had to _do_ something! He had to _warn_ someone, didn't he? He had to warn those muggles! Of course, Voldemort hadn't said anything about _what _muggles. Still, Harry made his way to Dumbledore's office, intent on reporting what had happened.

There were voices coming from Dumbledore's office, so of course Harry stopped to listen.

"Just wanted you to know, Albus, Buttercup and I are getting married as soon as possible," Snape was saying. "She wants Valentine's Day, but I'm pushing for Christmas. I want to get started on our family as soon as possible."

Dumbledore seemed surprised. "Married?" he repeated. "But…but…you've only known each other…I don't know, not very long!"

"I know. Isn't it wonderful?" Snape began to hum _Some Enchanted Evening_.

"These things musn't be rushed into, my boy," Dumbledore said firmly. "You need to meet her parents, speak to her father –" he trailed off.

Harry was devastated. So soon…so soon it had progressed to this point.

"Buttercup wanted a spring wedding, but I'm pushing for Christmas. Like I told her, we need to get started on our family! I can't wait to have twelve little Severuses and Buttercups running around."

"Twelve?" Dumbledore repeated dazedly.

"Yes, twelve. I've always wanted a large family."

"Dare I ask, Severus, where Mr. Potter fits in this little plan?"

Snape turned, a deep frown wrinkling his brow. "Potter? What does _he_ have to do with Buttercup?"

Ha! Snape was jealous. Harry was ridiculously glad. _Yeah, so there, Mr. Big-time Potions Professor! I'm competition!_ He thought to himself.

"I had understood, Severus," Dumbledore said, "That you were finding yourself…ah…somewhat attached to Mr. Potter."

"Stupid Gryffindor," Snape growled. "Stupid bloody Potter thinks he's the king of the school and the hero of the wizarding world. I'd like to see him run over by the Hogwarts Express, all mangled and bleeding and dead. Dead, dead, dead."

Harry was stunned. He'd known for a while that there was no love lost between the potions professor and himself, but he'd never known that Snape's feelings were so…_violent_.

"Still taking that potion, Severus?" Dumbledore asked mildly. "I think you may need to tone it down a bit."

There was a pause. "I quadrupled the original dose," Snape finally admitted sheepishly. "No point in taking anymore chances, I decided."

Harry didn't want to hear anymore about himself so he rushed into the room. "I saw Voldemort!" he gasped out.

The two men shot to their feet. "Potter, what are you doing here?" Snape growled growlingly.

"Duh! I just said, professor, I saw Voldemort!"

"_Don't_ say the dark lord's name!"

Harry was confused. "Why not?"

Snape shrugged. "Beats me. Just wanted to scare the crap out of you."

Dumbledore came forward. "You saw Voldemort, Harry?"

Snape whirled on him. "And you! I don't want to hear anyone saying that vile, vile name ever, ever again! And I mean it!"

"Severus, you're starting to bug me," Dumbledore said.

Snape shut his mouth.

"Just now, out in the snow! At some arbitrary location, I was just walking along, when – poof!"

"Poof?" Dumbledore repeated. "Are you sure it wasn't – crack?"

"Or pop?" Snape interjected.

"No, it was definitely a poof," Harry concluded.

Dumbledore looked worried. "Well, this is definitely _not_ good."

"Yeah, and he said he was going to kill muggles over the Christmas holiday. Loads of 'em."

Dumbledore began pacing up and down. "Evil, nefarious man! What we need is a plan. That's what we need."

"Yes, a plan," Snape repeated.

The two men turned to Harry. "So what've you got?" Dumbledore asked.

"M-me?" Harry stammered.

"A plan, Harry, quickly!" Dumbledore demanded, snapping his fingers.

"Um…well…shouldn't you call a meeting of the Order or something?"

Dumbledore looked at Snape.

"Well, it'll do," Snape said. He turned back to Harry and waved at the door. "Now get out of here, kid. You're making me sick to my stomach."

Harry was indignant. "What?! I'm not going anywhere until I find out what you're going to do about Voldemort."

Snape rounded on him. "_What did I say about that?_"

"Er…You-Know-Who," Harry quickly amended.

Snape sneered. "I love doing that."

"No, it's much too dangerous for you to stay, Harry," Dumbledore objected. "I must insist that you return to…whatever it is that you were doing."

"Walking in the snow," supplied Harry.

"Yeah. Go have yourself a nice little stroll through the snow."

"But I'm tired of walking in the snow. It's cold and my feet are kind of wet now and –"

"Just get the heck out of here, will you?" Dumbledore roared at him.

Harry meekly departed.

* * *

When he entered the common room, he stopped short. Ron and Hermione were making out in the corner.

"Uh…hey guys," he said a trifle uneasily, trying to act like everything was natural. He'd kind of wanted to talk to them about the whole Voldemort thing.

Ron came up for air. "Oh, hey, Harry. What's up?"

"Uh…" he came closer to them and sat down in a nearby chair. "Well, I was just on this walk in the snow –"

"Oh, that's nice." Ron went back to snogging.

"Yeah, and then Voldemort appeared –"

Hermione's head popped up. "Harry, do we _look_ busy?" she snapped.

Harry couldn't help but feel hurt. "Well…yeah…"

"It's cause we are! Now go away!" she yelled at him.

Uncertainly Harry got to his feet. She couldn't have been serious, could she? Hermione and Ron would never treat him like that –

"_Go_," Hermione snapped.

Harry left. Betrayed, that's how he felt. First Snape stole Buttercup from him, and now Ron had stolen Hermione.

_You've sworn off women forever,_ he told himself sternly as he walked the halls of Hogwarts aimlessly.

_But isn't there a woman out there for me?_ he asked himself desperately.

Suddenly Harry nearly collided with Ginny.

"Oh, hey Ginny," he said weakly. "What's up?"

Ginny looked miserable. "Oh, nothing…really…"

Suddenly Harry had clasped her in his arms. "Ginny, it's fate. Kismet. We're meant to be together. You know it as well as I do!"

Ginny was stunned. "Yeah, that's what I've been saying all along! _You're_ the one who didn't seem to get it!"

"Well, I get it now," he told her. "Let's walk off into the sunset together."

"Well…okay," she said uncertainly.

* * *

Thereafter followed a couple very happy weeks for Harry Potter. But the author couldn't let it last too long, because Harry's euphoria was beginning to wear on her nerves. And so…

* * *

A week before the Christmas holiday, Harry was happily practicing quidditch with the Gryffindor team. He was just happily racing along on his little broom, minding his own business, when all of a sudden…his broom ground to a halt. Harry nearly tumbled from it and had to clutch it tightly to avoid rolling off. Confused as to what was going on, he looked around. Down on a corner of the field he could barely make out Dumbledore and beside him a shorter man…

Harry's broom was moving. Down. To the ground. And he wasn't moving it. The rest of the play on the field had stopped and everything had grown strangely silent. It was almost eerie.

As he drew nearer to the ground, the figure beside Dumbledore came into focus. Fudge. His wand was pointed directly at Harry. He could only assume that some sort of spell had stopped his broom and was now lowering him to the ground.

Harry started to get annoyed, because that was what he always did in situations like this. Whatever was going on, Fudge had better have a good explanation.

"What's going on, professor?" he asked Dumbledore once he was close enough to the ground to jump off his broom.

"Don't come any closer, Harry," Dumbledore said, holding up a hand.

Harry stopped, though wondering why.

The rest of the Gryffindor team came running to surround him. And the Slytherin team too, because they were conveniently waiting at the side of the field for any random plot devices that might possibly drop from the sky. Hermione appeared from somewhere.

"Hi, Harry," Draco said.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" several of his teammates silenced him.

"What the – but he's my friend!" Draco protested.

"He is _not_ your friend, Malfoy," Ron sneered.

"Children, children, please," said Fudge, holding up a hand. "Dumbledore, wouldn't it be better to deliver this news privately?" he asked aside.

"What? What is it?" Harry asked. "Something to do with me? I have no secrets to hide from any of these people, Fudge, especially something coming from _you._"

Harry's disdain seemed to anger Fudge. "Very well, Mr. Potter. I've only come to tell you that you're under arrest for the murder of a whole bunch of minor characters, in addition to the entire muggle city of Houston, Texas and half of Russia."

Harry continued to stare at Fudge, slightly taken aback. "Is this a joke, professor?" he finally asked Dumbledore.

Dumbledore shook his head sorrowfully and could not meet Harry's eyes. "I'm afraid it isn't, Harry," he said firmly.

"Harry! How could you do this?" Hermione shrieked. "We trusted you! The wizarding world trusted you!"

"Hermione! I didn't do it!" Harry jumped in quickly, surprised that his friend would turn on him so quickly. He glanced quickly around the group. Ron refused to meet his eyes and Ginny's lips were trembling and tears were spilling down her cheeks. Even Draco wouldn't look at him.

"Look, I'm innocent, everybody!" he proclaimed. "Besides, why in the world would I want to kill all those people?"

Ron finally met his eyes. "Because you're _evil_. How could you join Voldemort and I never noticed it? You're no friend of mine, Harry Potter."

Harry desperately looked around the group, frantic to find an ally in somebody, _anybody_. "Ginny?" he asked anxiously.

"Oh, Harry," she said piteously. "How could you do this to me? We were going to have babies together. Twenty-two fat, healthy babies. And play quidditch together after we'd put them to bed every night. How could you ruin my dream?" She ran off the field, sobbing.

"Headmaster," he appealed. "You must know I couldn't have done this."

Dumbledore gave him a deeply sorrowful look. "Harry, you have shamed the whole wizarding world," he said sadly.

"Harry Potter," Fudge said officially, "You are hereby sentenced to Azkaban for life." He waved his wand and Harry disappeared, leaving the group behind to sob in agony over the boy who had turned out to be, not the savior of the wizarding world, but rather just another common power-hungry killer who had killed a whole bunch of people without anyone ever noticing what he was up to.

"Uh…Fudge," Dumbledore began uncertainly, "shouldn't we have had a trial or something? Some kind of investigation? Heard testimony?"

Fudge snorted. "This is bad fanfiction! What do you expect, a whole trial transcript right here for your reading pleasure? I don't think so!"

Dumbledore nodded. Head hanging in sorrow, he dragged off the field, feeling incredibly sad and sorry about the boy who had betrayed them all.

* * *

A/N: Please give me your ideas for bad plotlines to use…they really do give me inspiration! And as always, please review! (Santa knows who reviews and who doesn't.) 


	11. Harry and His Evil Guts

**Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction**

**BY LARGEMARGE**

**Author's Note**: I've had the flu and been rather miserable for the last few days. It occurred to me as I was lying there in a haze of pain and agonizing agony that _this_ is the kind of pain I put Harry through. What a terribly cruel person I am! But now I feel better and I'm over it.

Thanks for the reviews! You guys are the greatest. Oh, and my first flame ever…I'm touched. Really, kuyaga you shouldn't have! My apologies to Mystic Moon6 and any other residents of Houston, Texas or Russia who got killed off by Harry. Most inconsiderate of him, really. And to Phe-Chan…you made my week! I love reviews. Thanks to everyone.

**Disclaimer: Anything that sounds vaguely familiar I borrowed to make fun of. You can have it back at the end of the fanfic.

* * *

**

**_Harry and His Evil Guts_**

Azkaban. A really lousy place to spend your Christmas holiday. Harry crouched in a corner of his cell. Trembling, cold, numb. Plus he really needed to go to the loo.

Two whole weeks he'd been in here now. Mostly he passed the time by thinking of all the people who were responsible for placing him here. He really hated them. A whole lot. Plus all his so-called friends who had turned their backs on him so quickly. He fantasized about breaking out and seeking his revenge on them. Things usually got a little fuzzy around the seeking revenge part, because he could never think of anything bad enough to do to them. Maybe he could put the Imperius curse on Hermione and make her fall in love with Draco. That'd drive Ron mad for sure. And maybe Imperio Ginny to fall for Snape and Buttercup for Dumbledore and McGonagall for Neville…the possibilities were endless.

Such were Harry's pleasant thoughts that lovely Azkaban morning, until it suddenly occurred to him that – hey! Today was Christmas.

After a glance around his cell, somehow that thought only deepened his depression.

A dementor walked by. Harry was reliving the death of his parents. For at least the 500th time.

"Haaaaarrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyy!"

He covered his ears, but it didn't shut out the sound. Finally he slumped to the floor in a faint, which was a relief, because the author was really debating on knocking him out and negating all those merciful feelings she was spouting about in her note up at the top.

* * *

"…sleeping…better come back…"

"Yeah, Mum. Can they even get presents in Azkaban? What if the dementors just take them?"

"Yeah, and play with them and stuff."

"Oh yeah, Fred. I'm sure that's all dementors do around here at Christmas, is sit around playing with people's gifts."

"Well what else would they do with their time?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe suck out people's souls?"

"This place is creepy. Let's get out of here."

"Ronald Weasley! Get back here this instant! We came to visit Harry for Christmas and we're staying! Even if he is an evil killer!"

Harry raised his head slowly. He was faced with six Weasleys standing outside of his cell.

"Harry, you're awake!" Mrs. Weasley cooed. "We just stopped in to wish you a happy Christmas!"

Harry stared at the ground dully.

"And I brought you this present!" She held a package through the bars. Harry didn't move, and after a moment she elbowed Ron.

"And I brought you a present too," Ron said stonily, holding out the small package.

"Us too, Harry," Fred and George piped up. "Though Mum wouldn't let us include any prison-break pasties. They're our latest invention. Soon as we heard about you."

Harry didn't look up.

"H-harry?" Ginny asked timidly.

"Don't think he can hear us," Ron finally said.

"What's the matter, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "These dementors haven't driven you out of your mind already, have they?"

Harry fell to scratching in the dirt at his feet.

"H-he's so thin…" Ginny said, a sob catching in her throat.

"Oh, please," Ron said. "He's been in here all of two weeks. He looks exactly the same to me. Except…a little more murderous, maybe."

Ginny burst into tears and Mr. Weasley comforted her.

"Quiet, you lot." Mrs. Weasley began to unwrap the present. "It's a sweater, see, Harry? I made it myself. With your prisoner number on the front. Isn't that nice?"

"Like anybody's going to forget who he is," Ron muttered. "He's the wizard who killed a million people."

Ginny wailed louder.

"Maybe we should just go," Mr. Weasley said uneasily.

"Perhaps we should," Mrs. Weasley agreed. She shoved the sweater through the bars. "Now you put that on, Harry," she spoke loudly. "There's a little chill in here, and it's damp. I'd hate for you to become ill."

Fred, George, and Ron shoved their still-wrapped presents through the bars as well.

"Those'll keep you entertained for a few months, Harry," Fred promised him. "And we'll be back next Christmas to bring you another present."

Ron elbowed him in the side. "What?" Fred asked. "Who cares if he killed all those people anyway? Still doesn't mean we can't try our inventions out on him, does it?"

They began to move away. "Goodbye, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley said, beginning to cry into a handkerchief. "You've had such a hard life…no mother to take care of you…I understand, really, how you could have gone astray. Poor, poor boy. Keep your chin up…"

"Come _on, _Molly."

And they were gone.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Harry moved to the presents, curiosity getting the better of him. Even though he hated their guts, he still did kinda want to know what presents they had brought him.

He opened Ron's present first. It was a book. "Demise of the Darkest Wizards Ever," was the title. Inside the front cover Ron had scrawled, "Harry – just wanted you to know, they're coming out with a new edition. You're to be chapter 157. And I still think you're a stinky traitor. From, your ex-best friend."

Harry growled at the book before throwing it across the cell.

Fred and George's presents were a little more light-hearted. A dementor doll and fiery hair gel.

"Want to frighten your cell mates?" they had written. "Push the doll's stomach and listen to the rattling sound of a dementor's breathing. Guaranteed to sound just like the real thing. The perfect way to send everybody down crazy lane before you."

Of the hair gel they said, "To liven up those boring Azkaban afternoons, apply a little fiery hair gel. In no time your hair will be on fire. A good way to keep warm and freak out lots of people. Warning: If redness or boils occur, discontinue use immediately and seek assistance at St. Mungo's."

Though Harry still hated the Weasleys, really, really a lot, he _was_ rather glad of their visit. It was beastly being cooped up and not allowed to talk to anyone. And it had only been two weeks. Only…the rest of his life to go.

Harry really hoped that death was in the near future.

* * *

"Master, with Potter out of the way, you are free to wreak havoc as you wish," Wormtail said, kneeling before Harry along with several other Death Eaters.

"Genius, I am!" Harry crowed. "Now that the Potter kid's in Azkaban, I can finally live up to my full potential of killing and torturing and taking over the world!"

"Don't we do that already?" Wormtail asked.

"Oh, yeah. Good point," Harry said.

One Death Eater raised his head. "You mean…Potter was innocent?"

Harry laughed shortly. "_Of course_ he was innocent, you fool! _I _killed all those people, because _I'm_ an evil, dark wizard! Bwahahahaha!"

"So what's our next plan of action?" Wormtail asked.

"Our next plan of action is…kill everyone else. Kill 'em all!"

"Right, but…starting where?"

"Oh, right." Harry fell to thinking. "We'll start with…Hogwarts! Kill everyone at Hogwarts, because that's where Dumbledore is, and all the other people who are useful to the plot. We must place them in peril as soon as possible!"

The Death Eater raised his head again. "But master…I'll be out of a job."

"Well, I'll give you two weeks to find a new one," Harry offered.

"But why don't you justkill Dumbledore and leave the kids?"

"How dare you question me?" Harry thundered. "Crucio!"

The Death Eater twisted in agony.

Mercifully, at that point, Harry woke up. He was gasping from the searing pain in his scar.

Hogwarts! Voldemort was going to destroy Hogwarts, home of everything that was good and upstanding in the world…oh, yeah. And all those people who hated his guts.

But Harry couldn't get it out of his head, and finally he hit on a plan. He was going to get out of Azkaban. And he was going to rescue all of Hogwarts. They'd turned their back on _him_, but he wouldn't turn his back on them, by golly. Oh yeah, he'd show them all right. Then wouldn't they be sorry for how they'd treated him.

Harry was angry. Very, very angry.

* * *

He began to spend his days doing useful stuff. Like learning to apparate and become an animagus and do wandless magic and stuff. Because, I mean, where else do you have time to learn all that stuff, other than in Azkaban? And besides, he knew once he had mastered all of those things he'd be, like, the most powerful wizard in the world, or nearly. And then he could break his way out of Azkaban and start wreaking his own havoc on the wizarding world. _Revenge_. Aah, that was a sweet word. Really, really, sweet. Like pink, sticky cotton candy. Or a cup of sugar.

The animagus thing was giving Harry a bit of trouble. Though he'd worked on it for days, he still hadn't mastered it. One afternoon inspiration hit him and he began channeling Sirius, who told him everything he needed to know about becoming an animagus. Plus they had some good talks about surviving Azkaban too. Harry had lots of time to devote to his new hobby, so it's not any surprise that only a few days later he finally achieved his goal.

He changed into an animal.

_Wow, this is cool!_ Thought Harry. _I'm an animal! If only there were a mirror in here so I could see just what exactly I am. Well, I've got four legs. _He trotted around a bit. _And I'm kind of a gray color. Maybe I should try making a noise or something._

He succeeded in making a small whuffling sound. _Let's just try again here,_ he thought. He drew in a large breath.

"Hee haw!"

_Wow, I'm a donkey! How cool is this?_ For a while Harry practiced switching back and forth from human to donkey until he was exhausted.

Then he lay on the floor of his cell planning his escape. How the heck was he going to get out of here, anyway?

A dementor came by just then, and as all the good feelings were sucked out of him, Harry decided he had to get out of here, but soon. He couldn't take much more of this. Then he blacked out.

* * *

"Tomorrow we put our plan into action, Wormtail! Tomorrow everyone at Hogwarts will die! Die die die!"

"Yes, master."

"With Dumbledore out of the picture, I will be free to rule the world! No one will dare to cross me!"

"Got it," Wormtail said.

"Not even that crazy Potter kid!"

"Okay."

"Look, aren't you going to even get keyed up or something? It takes a lot of work to be all excited about killing people all the time. I need a little help here."

"Sorry," Wormtail said. "Woohoo! Tomorrow night, death at Hogwarts! Par-tay!"

"That'll do."

With a gasp Harry sat up. Oh no! Just one more day and Voldemort would be attacking! He had to get out of here, he just _had _to! What was he going to do?

But soon the familiar despair and anguish was washing over him. Before Harry could do anything else, he was sinking into a cold, dismal fog.

* * *

Early the next morning Harry was crouched in the corner, hands clamped over his ears to keep the horror at bay. He was unaware anyone was even standing at his cell door until it slowly began to creep open.

Dully, Harry lowered his hands.

"Are you sure this is Harry?" Remus asked. "It doesn't even look like him. I mean, ratty robe, wild matted hair, dirty beyond belief, emaciated…and those eyes. I definitely remember Harry's eyes. They were _not _that dismal, angry color."

Dumbledore kept his wand trained carefully on Harry. "Angry isn't a color, Remus."

"Oh yeah? Tell that to hundreds of fanfic writers," Remus told him. After a moment he noticed Dumbledore giving him a look. "What?"

"Go look." He nodded his head in Harry's direction.

"Me? Why me? Why don't you go look?" Remus objected, hanging back.

"Because I'm the headmaster of Hogwarts. Hundreds of students depend on me. But if you get hurt, no one will care. So go look."

Remus heaved a sigh and stepped closer to Harry. He bent down and pushed some matted hair off his forehead, then quickly jumped back.

"Well, there's a scar there, all right."

"Good." Dumbledore spoke up a little. "Hello, Harry. We've found out Hogwarts is going to be attacked today, and we need your help."

Harry stared listlessly at the floor.

"Should we take that as a no?" Remus asked.

Harry didn't move.

"I feared as much," Dumbledore spoke. "It is just as the Weasleys said. He has already been driven mad."

Remus hung his head sadly. "It's just as well, though. I mean, he never would have come if he knew we just wanted to trade him to Voldemort."

"True," Dumbledore agreed. "Get him up."

Remus dragged Harry to his feet and they left, Remus supporting him heavily.

Nobody saw the glint in Harry's eye, the glint of recognition, of anger, of _revenge_.

Dun dun dun!

* * *

So they went back to Hogwarts. "Here he is," Dumbledore said as Remus pulled Harry into the headmaster's office. Harry saw that there was already a group of people gathered there, members of the Order. Although nobody would have known he was aware of anything by lookingat him, because his face was just as blank and unreadable as before. He continued to stare dully at the ground. Crafty, Harry was. And I don't just mean like he was good with a stick of glue.

"What's his problem?" Snape asked. "He looks as vacant as Longbottom in my class."

"I am afraid," Dumbledore announced dramatically, "that Potter has lost his mind."

"I like him better already," Snape sneered.

"Oh, poor Harry," Mrs. Weasley snuffled into her handkerchief. Everyone in the room gave her looks of anger, because of course they all hated Harry and his evil guts.

"So anyway," Snape said, "We were just going over the plan. Voldemort shows up, and then we –"

"_Ahem_," Mrs. Weasley said sternly, jumping to her feet. "Are you just going to lay out this whole horrible plan right in front of poor Harry here?"

Snape folded his arms and indicated Harry with his head. "Look at him, Molly. He's a gibbering idiot. It doesn't really matter whether we say it in front of him or not."

Everyone looked at Harry, who had sunk down to the floor and was rocking back and forth, muttering gibberish to himself.

"But he's so cute and helpless!" Molly burst out. "We can't turn him over to Voldemort, just like that!"

"He's a nasty evil killer, Molly," Dumbledore reminded her. "What about that?"

"Yeah, what about that?" Snape repeated. "Huh?"

"Well, everyone has bad days," Molly finally said, sinking back into her seat.

"Will there be any further outbursts, or may I continue?" Snape inquired sweetly. Well, you know. As much as Snape had the ability to be sweet. Which, admittedly, wasn't much.

Anyway, so then Snape went on with the plan.

And sitting unobserved on the floor, Harry listened to the Order's plan, and plotted his own. He may have looked as vacant as the Bates Motel, but when it came down to defeating evil, he'd show _them_ who was a gibbering idiot.

* * *

A/N: Voldemort and Wormtail really reminded me of Pinky and the Brain in this chapter: "So, what're we going to do tonight, Voldemort?" "Same thing we do every night, Wormtail: Try to take over the world! Bwahahaha!" Don't really know how that happened…but oh well.

So anyway, sorry to leave you with a cliffhanger here. But I'm on a break right now and may be able to update by the end of the week, if I receive enough encouragement.

Encourage me!

Now review!


	12. The Cameo of Dangerous Harry

**Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction**

**BY LARGEMARGE**

**Author's Note**: Happy New Year, all! May your 2005 be filled with peace, goodwill, and plenty of Harry Potter. And as always, thanks to those who reviewed! (Larna Mandrea, Phe-chan, and HarryPotterFan3, you know who you are!)

**Disclaimer: Guess who doesn't own Harry Potter? (I'll give you a hint. It starts with M and rhymes with "gee.")

* * *

**

_**The Cameo of Dangerous Harry**_

After the Order meeting let out, all the members went down to the great hall for coffee and cheese Danish while they waited for Voldemort to arrive. Meanwhile, back in Dumbledore's office, Remus had been left in charge of Harry.

"Better stay up here for a while," Dumbledore advised on his way out the door. "You know how everyone is a little touchy on the subject of –" his voice dropped to a whisper, "the killer." He nodded his head in Harry's direction. "Just don't touch anything. _Especially_ the blue box"

For the first time Harry noticed the glowing blue box on Dumbledore's desk. How had he missed seeing it before? What could possibly be in it? Something evil and dangerous? Money? Or maybe something to eat…it was the perfect size for a cheese wheel, and he was really hungry right now…

As soon as the door closed behind Dumbledore, Remus turned to him."Harry, I know you're out of your mind, but I've just _got_ to tell you something. I'm having such a dilemma here that I just don't know what to do. I'm in love. I know, weird, right? And she loves me! The only problem is Snape."

Dully Harry stared at the ground, pretending not to be listening since he was out of his mind, even though his ears had just perked up. Snape? That must mean –

"I'm madly in love with Professor Hodgepodge, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. And she loves me! Even though I'm a werewolf. She says love crosses all boundaries. But she's engaged to Snape. I know, talk about bad taste, eh? But that was before she met me. Only now she doesn't want to break his heart, so she won't break it off with him."

Harry tried not to feel crushed. He was over Buttercup now, wasn't he? He had Ginny…well, not anymore. He didn't have anyone. Nothing but his anger. And _Revenge. _All these thoughts of women were distracting him from his true purpose. Harry forced himself to focus on The Revenge and rid his body of the evil lovelorn feelings. Then he went back to listening to Remus, who was still chattering away.

"…and what about when I turn into a werewolf, Harry? Do you think Buttercup's children will run screaming from me, or maybe they'll think it's fun! And we can have a nice lope through the woods or a little tussle out in the meadow. I'll even let them put a muzzle on me if it'll make Buttercup feel better…"

_I'd like to put a muzzle on you now, _Harry reflected to himself. He went back to not listening, as Remus was not saying anything remotely important.

A few random sprays of sparks went shooting by the window. "Whoa! What the –" Remus ran to the window. "Well, they're a little early is all. Okay. Now you know the plan, Harry." He hit himself in the head. "Look who's talking to the crazy psychopath." He started muttering to himself instead of Harry. "Got to get down to the entrance hall. Leave Harry here. Harry's a killer. It's okay if Death Eaters take him."

Remus ran out the door, and Harry heard it lock behind him.

Immediately he leaped to his feet. Aha! Time for action. But first, the blue box. If there was a cheese wheel in there, it was _his. _He grabbed the box and tried to pry the lid off, but it was stuck fast. He examined the words written on the top.

"The Thing of Power," he read aloud to himself. "Open only in case of impending apocalypse." Dang…no cheese wheel. Harry threw the box aside before proceeding to rifle through all of Dumbledore's belongings.

In the bottom of the desk, right next to a ukulele, Harry found his confiscated broom and wand. _Wow, sure am glad they didn't snap my wand, _Harry thought to himself. _Wonder why they didn't._ Not that he needed his wand…now that he could do wandless magic and all those other impressive things which the author will purposefully be obscure about so that she can whip them out without explanation at any given moment.

Anyway, so then Harry blew out the windows with some spell and jumped on his broom, heading for the quidditch pitch, where he knew the Death Eaters and Voldemort were going to attack. Because that's where the Order members said they would be, and besides, where else would they attack in a good bad fanfic? And Harry made himself invisible, too. And the broom. So nobody could see them.

He was shocked by the sight that greeted him.

Order members were scattered across the field, each in various stages of distress. A few paces from Harry, Mr. Weasley was dragging himself painfully across the ground. Oh no! Not Mr. Weasley! I mean, even though Harry _hated_ him for turning against him along with everyone else…but he _was_ Ron's dad, and he _had_ been rather nice to Harry over the past few years…

After a moment or two of indecision, Harry finally knelt next to him and made himself momentarily visible.

"Mr. Weasley?" Harry whispered. "Are you okay?"

He looked up, obviously near delirium. "Harr…don't…eat…Danish…"

Harry made himself invisible again before anyone could see him.

"…wait…Harry? Must…be…dreaming…Psychopathic killer…gibbering idiot…" Then Mr. Weasley fell over in a faint. Either that or he was dead, but Harry didn't have time to deal with him right then. So he mounted his broom and flew off to take care of important stuff.

Curses! He hadn't expected this. Voldemort had poisoned the Danish supply! How low could the man sink? This was going to throw off the whole plan.

Death Eaters were swarming across the field, heading for the school. Students were in various stages of freaking out and chaos. Harry could hear Hermione's familiar voice spilling out the entrance.

"Everyone to your common rooms! D.A. members, take your places! _To your common rooms, I said!_"

A Death Eater below him called out, "To Dumbledore's office! Potter is there! And the thing!"

Since he was invisible, Harry threw various curses at the Death Eaters with his Mighty Wandless Magic, laying out most of them. And he was invisible, so no one could hit him. Nice, eh?

Then a terribly awful pain hit him in the head and he went soaring to the ground. _He couldn't hold onto his broom…he was going to faint…no, he was just going to crash into the ground…really, REALLY hard…_Well, whatever happened, it was going to hurt.

Harry crashed into the ground and from somewhere heard an evil cackle. Voldemort had arrived.

"What's going on here?!" Voldemort roared.

Harry pushed his invisible self up weakly. Then fell over again. Oh no! He had broken, like, every important bone in his…

Author is debating what bones to break. Maybe the arm? Or leg. Ribs? Coccyx?

...every important bone in his…hand! The one he performed wandless magic with! Now where had he left that wand? He was going to need it if he was going to finish with his plan here. Harry searched frantically about his person (with his good hand).

Meanwhile, Hagrid came lumbering out onto the field. "No, don't 'urt the Order, Tom, whatever you do! They 'aven't done anythin'…" he trailed off as he noticed that all the hurting that could be done to the Order was mostly already finished.

"Uh…sorry. Bit behind the game, I guess," he finally muttered sheepishly.

Moments later Remus came running out onto the field, wand out. "No, don't hurt Hagrid!" he yelled. "And no matter what you do to me, Voldemort, I won't tell you that Harry's in Dumbledore's office…" He broke off as he noticed the devastation on the field. "W-what happened?" He looked around. "This isn't how it was supposed to go." He nudged Hagrid. "Did _you_ know about this? Last minute change of plans or something?"

"No, I din' know nothin'," Hagrid said. "Jes' as surprised as you are."

"But what about –" Remus began, and was interrupted.

"Take a look around!" Voldemort roared. "Your precious Order has fallen to its knees!"

Remus and Hagrid took a look around and saw that that was, indeed, literally the case. All of the Order members were out for the count.

"Oops. My bad." Remus backed up a little. "We're gonna need a minute here to regroup. See, we didn't know about any of this until just a minute ago." He backed up a little bit more and tugged on Hagrid's arm to follow.

Harry, meanwhile, was still searching frantically for his wand. He must have dropped it! He got to his feet and began hunting up and down for it. _Where_ had he lost it?

"Freeze!" Voldemort ordered the two. "You're not going anywhere, you werewolf. The giant either."

"But –" Remus protested. "Not even to the loo? I've _really_ gotta go –"

Suddenly a loud kafuffle sounded from the entrance. Four Death Eaters emerged onto the pitch, dragging a bunch of familiar students. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Luna, and a bunch of other D.A. members that the author doesn't really want to list out by name. Strong Death Eaters, these were.

"Wormtail!" Voldemort roared. "What's going on here? Who is responsible for this?" He waved his hand in a sweeping gesture that took in all of his downed Death Eaters.

Wormtail looked around with surprise. "That's not the only thing not going according to plan, master. _Potter_ wasn't in Dumbledore's office. And the windows were all blown out and stuff!"

Another Death Eater next to him spoke up. "But I got the thing!" he said triumphantly, holding up the glowing blue box.

Harry, at that moment, tripped over his wand, falling to the ground. He triumphantly picked it up before turning back to the gathered group. Aha! That glowing blue box thingy was important to Voldemort, eh? Well, in that case –

"Accio Thing of Power!" Harry yelled. The box flew out of the Death Eater's hands. The moment Harry intercepted it he was back on his broom, flying through the air and making the blue box invisible too so no one could see it.

"The thing! Get the thing!" Voldemort was screaming.

But no one knew where it had gone, so for a while the Death Eaters threw random curses around, hitting unimportant characters. Harry, however, being the amazing all-powerful wizard that he now was, wasted no time in stupefying all the Death Eaters and taking their wands. The only D.A. members still conscious, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, were clapping and cheering, while Hagrid and Remus merely looked confused. Voldemort, meanwhile, was very put out.

"This isn't fair!" he was screaming. "I outsmarted you! I'm winning!"

Suddenly Dumbledore was there, walking calmly onto the pitch from some undisclosed location. "I don't think so, Tom." He was very composed. "I think it's fairly apparent that you're losing. You see, even without Harry Potter we've managed to outsmart you yet again."

"Yeah!" Hermione yelled angrily, even though Ron and Ginny tried to shut her up. "You may have turned Harry to your side, but the rest of us are still willing to fight! You big…slimy…evil wizard!"

Ron finally succeeded in getting his hand over her mouth.

Voldemort was smiling nastily now. "Ha! That's what you all think. Harry Potter wasn't even guilty. I set him up!"

"You?" said Dumbledore with disbelief. "But how in the world could you have done that?"

"Because I'm an evil dark wizard and you're not! Ha! Fooled you all!" Voldemort crowed. "And now you locked him away and he's become a complete gibbering idiot! It doesn't get any better than this!"

Everyone hung their heads in shame. How in the world could they have been taken in so easily by Voldemort's trick? How could they have believed Harry guilty so readily?

Ginny burst into tears, her thoughts again dwelling on her twenty-two fat babies. Maybe, just maybe, it was still possible…but Harry was just a gibbering idiot now. He could never love her again…

"Ha! I bask in my genius!" Voldemort proclaimed. "Now you'll all die, and I'll take over the world and rule in evil FOREVER! Bwahahahahha!"

"Not today, Voldemort," a steady, dangerous, and oh-so-steely voice spoke from behind him.

"Eh?" Voldemort turned.

Everyone gaped in astonishment. It was…Harry. But not the old Harry. Oh, no. This was a changed Harry. This was…_dangerous_ Harry. (Blaring trumpets sounded and a heavenly light shone down on Harry's head.)

"Potter?" Voldemort asked in astonishment. "But…why aren't you gibbering like an idiot?"

"It was all an act," Harry explained coldly. "I fooled you, and now for ruining my Christmas holiday, you're going to die."

"Curse you, Harry Potter!" Voldemort raged. "Well, I'm still going to defeat you. And now you've made me angry. Prepare to see all your friends suffer!" He whipped around and soon had Hagrid, Remus, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione under the cruciatus.

Harry was unmoved. "Spare me the theatrics," he yawned. "Really, I couldn't care less if you killed them all," he spoke loudly over their screams of pain and anguish. "Those traitors betrayed me."

"Rats!" Voldemort ended the torture and the five collapsed to the ground.

"Harry! Harry, please! I appeal to you!" Dumbledore spoke up. "I apologize for believing you to be guilty. But really, the evidence was so compelling! What was I to think?"

"Kill him first," Harry growled to Voldemort, indicating his head in Dumbledore's direction. "And make it painful."

"Harry, don't!" an hysterical female voice whimpered from the ground. "Don't do this. Remember…our twenty-two fat babies…please, Harry…"

Against his will Harry looked back at Ginny, all collapsed on the ground. Even after the cruciatus, she still looked like a supermodel…even if she _had_ betrayed him…

"Oh, fine," he said shortly, turning back to Voldemort. "I guess…don't kill him after all. I was only kidding anyway. Bad mood from Azkaban, you know."

"So what now, Potter?" Voldemort asked, keeping a careful eye on Harry's movements.

"Stupefy!" Harry shouted unexpectedly.

Only Voldemort had been expecting it, and returned a curse of his own. "Crucio!"

Harry ducked. "Expelliarmus!"

Voldemort twisted out of the way. "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry rolled out of the spell's path. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Voldemort ducked.

They exchanged curses for a few minutes, each managing to evade any damage. Unlikely, true, but hey, this is fanfiction. And bad fanfiction, at that.

After a while Voldemort seemed to tire of the exchange and shrieked, "This isn't over, Harry Potter! We'll meet again, and I'll destroy you once and for all!"

And with that, he disappeared.

Harry slowly lifted himself from his crouched position. With his good hand. Well, Voldemort had got away again. _Curse him. _Suddenly Harry became aware that all eyes were on him. His _burning, angry, fiery rage_ came boiling back to the surface again. All these people had betrayed him…had delivered him to the torments of Azkaban and the dementors. All these people who _knew _the terrible pain and agony that the mere mention of a dementor put him through…he _hated _them…_passionately…_he would never, _ever_ forgive them. _Ever ever ever ever ever_.

He just couldn't deal with his anger and the myriad emotions pulsing through his veins, not with all these eyes on him…so, since Harry had learned to apparate, among other things, while he was just hanging out in Azkaban with nothing better to do, with a loud crack he apparated away.

Only about a hundred feet or so, actually, just behind a large tree where he could hide and listen to what everybody was saying about him.

"Harry! Harry, come back!" Ginny sobbed as though her heart would break.

"He was innocent!" Hermione screeched. She ran at Dumbledore and pummeled him with her fists. "All along I said he was innocent! And you wouldn't believe me! This is all your fault!"

"What are you on about, Hermione?" Ron asked. "You thought he was just as guilty as the rest of us."

"Oh." Hermione looked confused.

"I can't believe it." Remus seemed to have gone numb. "I swore this would never happen again! After poor Sirius, we delivered another innocent person to the hands of the dementors! And he was just a boy! Oh, the agony! I'll never forgive myself, never, never, never. What terribly excruciating agony he must have gone through…"

"Poor 'arry," Hagrid mumbled, tears coursing down his cheeks. He wiped at his face with the back of his hand.

"He learned to apparate too," Dumbeldore observed. "Wonderfully resourceful boy."

Harry felt a small surge of pride. He almost wanted to transform into his animagus form and trot about as a donkey just to show them what else he had learned to do. But he didn't.

Instead he suddenly realized how exhausted he was and how his crushed hand was throbbing and throbbing…painfully…just awfully excruciating, the pain was. Plus he was really, _really_ hungry and he was probably going to faint at any moment…

So Harry took two steps and promptly keeled over at Dumbledore's feet, who had already discovered his hiding place anyway. So much for being Dangerous Harry, Man of Mystery. _But Dangerous Harry will be back in the next chapter,_ he vowed to himself. Then he slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

**_Author's Note: _**I must apologize for Hagrid. Just don't know how to make him talk! But then again, this is supposed to be bad fanfiction, so I guess it's all good anyway. Oh, and just so you all know, I'm trying to do better with Harry's hospital wing quota. At least I know he'll definitely be there next time…

Please review and make my life worth living. Not that I'm going to go kill myself or anything.

And as always, please give me your ideas!!


	13. Chico From Rancho Cucamonga

**Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction**

**BY LARGEMARGE**

**Author's Note**: My fic has been Niffled over at Fictionalley! Cool, huh! Thanks to Myluckystars, who was kind enough to do the honors. Okay, so I didn't know what it meant to be niffled beforehand, but hey, cool! I'm honored.

A million thanks to everyone who reviewed and those who gave me their ideas. I do find hints for what you want to happen very helpful when I'm experiencing writer's block. And to those who have been picking up on the Princess Bride references, yes, I love Princess Bride!

Sorry it's been so long between updates and FYI, to any new readers, I do update once a week around the weekend as a rule, and more often if I'm feeling a storyline and actually have some time to write.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I'm not even making any money off of this. I know, stinks, doesn't it. But at least I'm having fun. Oh, and don't sue me.

* * *

**

**Chico from Rancho Cucamonga**

Harry rolled over and opened his eyes. He was staring at a ten-foot wall of flowers. A blurry ten-foot wall of flowers.

"…you mean Harry's still asleep?" someone nearby was asking.

"Yes, Miss Granger, he's still asleep," Madame Pomfrey's annoyed voice floated back toward Harry. "And this is the seventeenth time you and your friends have been here this morning! Nothing's changed. Now get out and don't come back again today!"

Harry could hear Hermione muttering to herself as she left.

"Get those kids out of here, Poppy! They're driving me crazy! The next kid who comes in asking after Potter gets cursed into next July!"

Harry jumped at the close proximity of the voice, which could have been coming from the next bed over. But he couldn't really tell, because of all the flowers.

"Now, Severus, calm yourself. You're only going to make your condition worse."

"What condition? I don't _have_ a condition! I've been here a whole week now, and I feel perfectly fine! In fact, I think I'm ready to take over my classes again. I'll just go down and prepare…"

There was the sound of a minor struggle and eventually Madame Pomfrey must have won, because a moment later Snape was speaking again, sounding winded.

"You'll regret this, Poppy. You really, really will." He was breathing heavily.

"Severus, you were wounded badly by those Death Eaters, and you know you're not up to anything. Why must you insist on being so difficult?" she asked him.

"But my potion, Poppy, you don't understand…" he groaned.

"What's this potion you keep going on about? You know very well you're much too ill to be taking any non-essential potions right now."

"But you don't understand…the consequences could be devastating…"

Harry had been laying in bed working on the problem of what he was doing in the hospital wing. He couldn't really remember. Although he _did_ remember this colossally awful bad dream where all his friends had betrayed him and he got sent to Azkaban, and over the Christmas holiday, no less…

Wait a minute! That was _no_ dream.

Harry sat up, his fury returning. They'd all betrayed him…and now…_they'd pay._

Dangerous Harry was back, all right.

Snape was moaning and muttering things under his breath. His patience gone, Harry knocked over some flower arrangements to get a look at him.

"Quit your sniveling," he said coldly.

Snape jumped. "Oh, Potter. You're awake." He turned away. "I'm…extremely tired. I'll just have a little nap now." He rolled onto his side so that his back was to Harry.

For a moment Harry observed him coldly, then turned to Madame Pomfrey, who had come over to bustle around him.

"Well, Mr. Potter. Happy to see you're awake at last. Some of us had despaired of your ever waking."

Harry folded his arms. "Yeah, fascinating. I really need to –"

She pried one of his hands loose and began examining it. "Now, how does that feel?"

He pulled away. "Just fine. Now I'd like to leave, if you don't mind."

She tut-tutted. "Oh, I'm afraid not, Mr. Potter. You're still recovering from…" she lowered her voice before continuing, "…Azkaban. I think you'd do better to stay at least another day, if not more."

Harry frowned. "I think not. I'm leaving _now_. I've got very important things to do."

"More important than recovering?" she inquired doubtfully. "Besides, the headmaster asked to be alerted the moment you awake. He wants to speak to you."

"Really. How delightful," Harry said sarcastically. "I'll just go up and meet him in his office then."

Madame Pomfrey didn't try to force him to stay, as she had Snape, so she must have just been bluffing. Either that or she was frightened away by the dangerously _dangerous_ glint of anger in Harry's eyes.

Of course Harry changed his clothes before departing the hospital wing. He didn't go out in his nightie or anything.

But once he'd changed his clothes, he shoved his way out of the flower arrangements and stalked out of the place, a steely glint of anger in his eyes.

* * *

There was a cluster of students blocking the door of the hospital wing.

"I'm not going in there again," Hermione's voice stated flatly. "The way Madame Pomfrey yelled at me – no, Ron! If you want to know, you go in there yourself!"

"Excuse me," Harry said impatiently, pushing his way through the group.

"What – Harry!" a chorus of joyous voices sounded.

Harry, in Dangerous/Angry mode, did not respond, but continued his angry stalking down the hall.

The group of students hurried to keep up with him. "Harry! I know you're mad, but if you'll just listen –" Hermione said breathlessly on one side of him.

"Yeah, mate, it was all just an innocent mistake!" Ron piped up on his other side. Harry stopped and turned to Ron, who looked slightly frightened.

"_Demise of the Darkest Wizards Ever_?" Harry asked coldly.

"Oh, that…that was just a joke…didn't you get it, Harry?" Ron laughed weakly.

"I'd really like to talk to you, Harry," Ginny interrupted, pushing Ron out of the way and sidling up next to him. "Alone."

Harry gave her an unfriendly glance. "You're a bunch of stinky traitors, and I promise you, if it's the last thing I ever do…_you'll pay._" He stalked away from the group but, once again, could hear them hurrying after him. So he turned himself invisible. Then no one could see him. _Ha! So there, you traitors!_ He thought to himself.

"Where'd he go? He was just here…we've got to track him down! Let's split up!"

So Harry continued his walk to Dumbledore's office at a leisurely pace, free from pesky apologizing traitorous friends.

* * *

"Harry, come in, come in!" Dumbledore welcomed him when Harry pushed open the door to his office. But Harry just stood there, giving him a stony glance.

"What do you want, Dumbledore?" he asked in a decidedly unfriendly tone.

"Do have a seat, Harry," Dumbledore invited him. "I bet you're angry, but that's only to be expected."

"Angry?" Involuntarily Harry stepped further into the room and the door swung closed behind him. "_Angry?_"

Dumbledore waved his hand and a chair rushed up behind Harry and forced him to sit down.

"All right. Fine. So I'm sitting down. What now?" Harry asked coldly.

"You must allow me to apologize, Harry. I'm really sorry about the whole Azkaban thing…I imagine it was quite unpleasant."

"Unpleasant?" Harry echoed. "It was the most awfully terrible thing –" he broke off.

"That's it, Harry. Just let it out," Dumbledore said in a soothing voice.

Harry closed his mouth and thought angry thoughts. _That's it. Don't get distracted_, he told himself. "I'll never forgive you, Dumbledore," he said coldly.

"But Harry, I'm really, really, _really_ sorry."

"You can add as many reallys as you want," Harry said shortly. "I still won't forgive you."

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "Very well. It brings me a lot of sorrow to see you so angry, Harry. But maybe as you get back into your classes and quidditch and things here, you'll find it easier to forgive."

"I doubt it," Harry said, "Seeing how as soon as I leave your office I'm leaving Hogwarts for good."

"Harry, no!" Dumbledore jumped to his feet. "You can't be serious! What about Voldemort? This is one of the few places you can really be safe from him!"

"Safe from Voldemort? Oh yeah, you'd have trouble proving that in a court of law. And who's going to keep me safe from my so-called friends? Yeah, I think I'll be much safer far away from here."

"But…isn't there anything I can say to persuade you?" Dumbledore asked.

"Not really, no."

Dumbledore shrugged. "Well, you can't fault me for trying." He sat down again. "So what're you gonna do?"

"I'm going to London and become an actor. I've always rather fancied the role of Marius in Les Miserables."

"Who?" Dumbledore asked blankly.

Harry's face darkened again. "Never mind. I'll just be going now."

Dumbledore held up a hand. "Before you go, there's just one more item of business. The Thing of Power. What have you done with it?"

Pausing at the door, Harry turned. "Just what is this…Thing of Power?" he asked casually.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Harry," Dumbledore responded. "It's much too dangerous and dark a secret."

Harry shrugged. "I gotta go." He headed out the door.

"Wait, Harry!" Dumbledore ran after him.

But when Harry didn't want to be found, he couldn't be. And he was already gone.

* * *

On his way off of school grounds, Harry ran into Remus. Literally. They both staggered back and Harry dropped his suitcase, which fell open.

"Harry!" Remus recovered his balance. "You're out of the hospital wing!" He tried to give Harry a hug, who sidestepped him.

"Kindly keep your distance, werewolf," he said coldly.

"But Harry, don't you – oh, I get it. You're still mad because of the whole Azkaban thing."

"Good guess."

Remus noticed the spilled suitcase on the ground. "Say, what's all this for?"

"I'm afraid I don't have time to chat right now. Maybe some other time." Harry waved his wand and the contents of the suitcase sprang together and righted themselves.

"But where're you – oh, are you running away?"

"I'm not _running away_," Harry said icily.

"Then what're you doing?"

"None of your business." He grabbed the suitcase and began to walk away. Remus fell into step beside him.

"So where're you going? Privet Drive?"

Harry snorted. "_No,_ not Privet Drive."

"Then where?"

Harry stopped short and folded his arms. "If you _must_ know, I'm going to London and pursue an acting career."

Remus broke into gales of laughter. "Oh good one, Harry! Good one!" Eventually his laughter wound down and he wiped at his eyes.

Harry eyed him angrily.

"What – oh, were you serious?"

"Gotta go." Harry moved past him.

"Oh, come _on,_ Harry! You can't just leave! Just like that? Just because we all believed you were a psychopathic killer?"

Harry kept walking.

"We're all really sorry, Harry. Really, really a lot."

"I don't care," Harry said, whipping around. "I'm still leaving, and I'm not coming back. You can apologize all you want, I'm never forgiving you. And I've been channeling Sirius, and he says _he'll_ never forgive you either. So _there_." He turned and stalked away.

"Come off it, Harry!" Remus called after him. "You can't just – you're going to feel really stupid about this in two weeks when you show up here again!"

With a pop, Harry was gone.

* * *

He spent the better part of the day wandering around London. Not looking for acting work, though. Oh, no. It was time to put his Revenge in motion. They'd be sorry…they'd _all_ be sorry…

Anyway, so Harry collected some contact lenses and makeup and a bunch of other stuff before apparating back to an abandoned wood hut in an arbitrary location somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. Where he began to put his plan into action.

* * *

The next morning an unfamiliar student walked into the Great Hall. No one really paid attention as he approached the Gryffindor table and took a seat near Neville and Seamus.

Neville looked up. "Hey, who're you?"

The unfamiliar student cleared his throat loudly before speaking in a very deep voice. "I'm a new Gryffindor. Transfer student from…Hippohorns School of Wizardry." His large floppy brown mustache fluttered and flapped against his face as he spoke.

"Hippohorns?" Neville echoed blankly. "Never heard of it."

The unfamiliar student – oh, okay, it's Harry, all right? Anyway, so Harry cleared his throat again before continuing, "Oh, it's a very elite school. In…" he wracked his brain, "Rancho Cucamonga."

Neville looked impressed.

"Wow!" Seamus, who had been sitting silently next to Neville up to this point, suddenly sat forward. "That's in Africa, isn't it?"

"Uh…yeah," said Harry, who wasn't really sure himself.

"And you're a sixth year?" Neville asked excitedly.

"Why, yes, I am," Harry said.

"That means you'll be rooming with us!" Neville continued.

"What an extraordinary coincidence!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yeah, got an extra bed anyway since Harry went off to become an actor," Seamus added.

As luck would have it, Hermione and Ron were coming in at that moment and overheard the statement.

"Can we not talk about Harry today?" Ron asked in a perturbed voice as he took a seat next to Harry. "I can't handle it."

Hermione teared up.

Harry spoke up, trying to sound casual. "You wouldn't by any chance be speaking of the famous Harry Potter, would you? I've seen pictures of him in The Daily Prophet. What an incredibly handsome and charismatic boy…real shame, that whole Azkaban thing."

Ron and Hermione looked really guilty. Then they both seemed to notice the stranger at their table for the first time.

"And you are?" Ron asked, his voice faintly tinged with dislike.

"Chico," Harry said in a deep manly voice. "Chico Rodriguez."

"From Africa," Neville added, for Ron and Hermione's benefit. "He'll be taking Harry's bed."

"But…but what if Harry comes back?" Hermione asked, her voice trembling.

Ron gave them all a warning look to shut up about Harry already and turned back to "Chico." "Yeah, nice to meet you, Taco," he said with distaste.

* * *

The next morning as Ron puttered into the bathroom, half awake, he suddenly gave a start of surprise. There, written on the mirror in slimy red blood were the words, "I'll get you, traitor! Signed, Harry Potter."

Meanwhile, Ginny was awakened by a frantic and mostly incoherent Hermione. "Bathroom…Harry…revenge…" she gasped out.

Ginny sat up. "Harry's taken revenge on the bathroom?" she asked.

Hermione dragged her out of bed. "Oh, come with me."

In the girls bathroom, smeared across the wall in the same red blood were the words, "Prepare to meet your doom, Granger and Weasley! Revenge will be mine!" It also was signed by Harry.

Similar messages threatening various people appeared in assorted bathrooms throughout the school. Plus one appeared on Remus's bathroom mirror, but he was off somewhere recovering from being a werewolf, so he didn't see it until a couple days later.

Dumbledore held an emergency meeting before breakfast in the Great Hall that morning and urged everyone to continue with their classes as usual. "It is clearly the work of a prankster, and I assure you that everything is being done to apprehend whoever is behind this mischief," he told the worried students, many of whom did not seem convinced. "It's really not Harry Potter. Really. Well, probably not." Then he sat down to eat his breakfast.

"Wow," Disguised Harry said as soon as Dumbledore sat down. "Do you really think it's just a prankster?" His mustache was a little lopsided, but nobody seemed to notice.

"That's what Dumbledore _said_," Ron told him forcefully. "We don't question Dumbledore here, mate."

"But are you sure it wasn't just your old pal Harry warning you that he's going to seek revenge on you for betraying his friendship?" Disguised Harry asked casually.

Hermione leaned forward. "I think Rico may be right," she said gravely.

"Actually, it's Chico," he inserted.

"Oh, sorry. But you all remember how angry Harry was. And how he threatened revenge on us all. I think he's really trying to do it."

"But do what?" Ginny asked, her eyes wide and horrified.

"Off you?" Disguised Harry suggested.

Hermione and Ginny looked nervous.

"Of course not!" Ron spoke up. "Harry would never do anything like that."

"But he's been in Azkaban," Hermione said in a low voice. "Who's to say _what_ he'll do now? He could really have been driven mad!"

There was an uneasy silence throughout the rest of the meal.

* * *

Late that night, the silence in Gryffindor Tower was pierced by a long, loud scream. Concerned students clustered around the doorway of the fifth year girls. And the boys were there too, even though they supposedly couldn't get up to the girl's rooms. Because that's the way the author wanted it.

"Ginny!" Ron ran to her bedside. She was shivering and cowering into Hermione's arms. "What's wrong?"

"I…I saw…oh, it's terrible!" she sobbed into Hermione's shoulder.

"_What_? What did you see? What is it?" Ron asked frantically.

"I saw…Harry! Standing over my bed! Dressed like the grim reaper…he said he'd come to get me!" She sobbed some more.

Ron stopped his agitated pacing. "Oh, it was just a dream? I thought you were being attacked or something. Oh well. Back to bed, everybody."

The unimportant characters filed out of the room.

"It wasn't a dream, Ron!" Ginny sobbed. "It was _real! _He was standing over me!"

Ron knelt down next to her. "Well, it really couldn't have been anything but a dream, Ginny, because Harry's in London acting. Everybody knows that."

Suddenly Disguised Harry ran into the room. "Hey everyone! You'll never guess who I just saw down in the common room! Harry Potter! Friendly chap, and so good looking, too…but he seemed awfully upset about something…"

Hermione jumped up. "Are you certain, Paco?"

"Actually, it's Chico. And of course I'm certain…I'd recognize that handsome face anywhere."

"Where'd he go?" Ron demanded.

"Oh, he…flew out the window on a broom," Disguised Harry responded. "But he said something about coming back later. And I can't be sure, but I think he said something about making all those traitors pay…"

"We're all going to die!" Ginny shrieked hysterically.

Hermione and Ron exchanged a worried look. "Look, calm down, Ginny," Ron commanded. "You're probably overreacting. I'm sure Harry wouldn't really try to kill us."

But no one seemed really convinced.

* * *

The next morning there was a banner strung across the Gryffindor common room that read, "You die at midnight, traitors! And don't bother hiding. I'll find you!"

The entire school was in chaos. Everyone knew about the death threat, because corresponding banners had been hung up at random locations around the school. There was another emergency pre-breakfast meeting.

"Okay, so maybe I was wrong about this not being Harry Potter," Dumbledore told the assembled student body. "There is a slight possibility that Potter has lost his mind and is really trying to do us all in."

Pandemonium erupted.

Dumbledore held up a hand for silence. "Please, please, hear me out! I assure you that no one's really going to die, though, if you'll just do as I say. Here's my brilliant plan. We'll call in some aurors and lock ourselves in the Great Hall for the rest of the day."

Well, it wasn't much, but it was a plan. Dumbledore went out to make the arrangements, and the students settled in for a tedious wait.

* * *

It was a long and boring day. Ron and Hermione fought a lot, Ginny cried a lot, and Draco insulted lots of people. Stress caused him to fall back into his insulting ways. He was pretty sure Harry was going to kill him first, if he got the chance.

As the time drew on toward midnight, Disguised Harry tried to carry on small talk with those around him.

"So, are you nervous?" he asked Ron.

Ron gave him an unfriendly look. "No, I'm _not_ nervous. And what's it to you, anyway?"

Hermione put a hand on his arm. "Leave Keko alone, Ron. He only asked a question."

"Actually, it's Chico," Disguised Harry said. "And it's okay. I'd be nervous too if I was Harry's best friend and I betrayed him. Do you think he'll go for you first?"

Ron shivered nervously and turned away.

Ginny burst into tears. Again.

And the clock struck eleven.

* * *

At quarter to midnight, there was a loud pounding on the doors. Everyone started freaking out all over again until Dumbledore finally went to see who it was. Remus pushed his way into the room.

"Hey, I just got home and there's this weird banner across my living room that says Harry wants to kill me," he said. "What's going on?"

"Remus, you'd better sit down," Dumbledore advised him, before filling him in.

And then the clock struck midnight.

There was a brilliant poof of smoke in the middle of the room which everyone automatically jumped away from. Girls started shrieking and running for the corners of the room. So did Draco and Ron.

After a minute or two, all the important characters went to investigate the smoke.

"Well, there's nothing there," Remus said. "I wonder what that was."

Suddenly there was a burst of maniacal laughter behind them. "Bwahahahahaha!"

Everyone whirled around to face…Chico?

"Frog in your throat, Chachi?" Hermione asked kindly.

Harry ripped off his mustache. "It's not Chachi…I mean Chico, it's…Harry!"

Everyone screamed and cowered, except for Dumbledore, who decided to try to talk some sense into Harry.

"Harry, be sensible! No matter what we may have done to you –"

Harry waved his hand and knocked Dumbledore over with his Mighty Wandless Magic.

"You mean all this time it was you – you were Paco – Taco – you were the kid with the mustache?" Hermione cried, a note of betrayal in her voice.

Harry laughed again, but this time less maniacally. "That's right! Oh boy, this is great. I've scared the crap out of all of you." He rubbed his hands together with delight. "I'd say I've achieved my revenge."

Ron lowered his arm from in front of his face. "You mean…_this_ is your revenge? You weren't going to kill anyone?"

Harry snorted. "Of course not! I'm not a maniac, after all."

People started to get up off the ground.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so glad!" Ginny said, running toward him with the intent of throwing her arms around him.

Suddenly twenty or so aurors ran into the room and zapped Harry with about a hundred curses. He crumpled to the ground.

And Harry ended the chapter the same way he began it. Flat on his back, unconscious in the hospital wing. Oh, and surrounded by flowers and one bed over from Snape.

* * *

**Author's Note**: D'you get the sense we're not getting anywhere here? Now we're right back where we started! Well, except Harry's thirst for revenge has been satisfied. What a relief _that_ is. Now be a pal and review! 


	14. Daddy Snape Comes Out of the Closet

**Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction**

**BY LARGEMARGE**

**Author's Note**: Boy, have I had a crappy coupla weeks. Of course I announce I'm updating weekly and then I don't do it. So sorry. Perhaps I should have said I'm updating weekly unless my job interferes. Anyway, enough of the apologizing. I'm not really sure if this chapter even makes sense. I've read through it so many times I'm just really, really sick of it. Hope it's halfway coherent. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, because it really makes the writing worthwhile. Oh, and as always, thanks for the ideas. I'm using 'em! Just be patient!

**Disclaimer: Same as all the others. Is it hot in here, or is it just my computer?

* * *

**

**Daddy Snape Comes Out of the Closet**

Harry was annoyed. He'd been in the hospital wing a week now recovering from all the curses the aurors had shot at him. It shouldn't have been so bad, really. Compared to Azkaban, the hospital wing was palatial. The problem, really, was Snape.

"How are you feeling, Harry? Are you hungry? Does anything hurt? Can I get you something to read? A potion? A pensieve full of all of my most embarrassing moments for you to rifle through?"

Madame Pomfrey had released Snape a few days before, but he insisted on returning to check on Harry hourly.

"I'm _fine_," Harry said irritably. "Will you get out of here and leave me alone?"

"But Harry –"

"Stop calling me Harry!" Harry yelled.

"Well, what else _would_ I call you? Harry's your name," Snape pointed out.

Harry gritted his teeth. "Call me Potter," he said angrily, "Or idiot. And insult me a lot."

"Insult you?" Snape asked with confusion. "But I don't want to insult you. I want to hug you and love you and –"

"GET OUT!" Harry roared, suddenly throwing arbitrary curses around with his Mighty Wandless Magic.

Snape ran from the room, flames shooting from his hair.

Moments later a bunch of Weasleys entered the room, looking back the way they had come. "What was _that_ all about?" Fred asked.

"Snape doesn't hate Harry anymore," Ron explained to Fred and George as they made their way to Harry's bed.

Harry was glad the Weasleys – oh, and Hermione – had shown up, because he wanted some company other than Snape. And all his animosity was automatically gone after the last chapter ended, all issues resolved, and total closure found on the subject of Azkaban.

In short, everything was back to normal.

Unless, of course, the author decided it should be otherwise.

"Stupid git won't leave me alone," Harry muttered.

"Wait a minute, Snape _likes_ you now?" Fred asked incredulously.

"I think he thinks he's my father," Harry said.

"He wants to smother Harry with love," Ginny spoke up.

"Well, I wouldn't put it _that_ way," Harry said.

"He wrote it on a piece of parchment and hung it at the front of the Potions' classroom," Ginny said. "'Snape wants to smother Harry with love.'"

"Gone clean batty, he has," Ron mused.

Harry groaned. "This is awful."

"Well, cheer up, mate," George said cheerfully. "Now that Fred and I are here, we'll hold the man off with the power of practical jokes."

"Say, what are you doing at Hogwarts, anyway?" Harry suddenly thought to ask Fred and George.

"Trying to drum up business in Hogsmeade," George supplied. "Meeting with potential investors and such. Mum made us promise to check in on you."

"We've got to get to class," Hermione announced. "You two stay here and entertain Harry a while, will you?"

"Yeah, sure we'll entertain him," Fred said. Everyone left but the twins.

"So Daddy Snape, eh? That's rough," George mused.

"It's just his potion," Harry said. "See, he was taking this potion back when it first started –"

"When it first started?" Fred interrupted.

"Yeah, see it started back at the beginning of the fanfic," Harry explained, quickly filling the twins in on all the important stuff they had carelessly missed by not reading the whole story.

A sudden thought occurred to Harry. "Hey! A sudden thought has occurred to me," he said. "Maybe you guys can help me out. You any good at potions?"

Fred looked at George. George looked at Fred. "Are we any good at potions?" Fred scoffed. "Is the sky blue? Is Voldemort evil? Is the Pope Catholic?"

"Is that a yes?" Harry asked, confused.

"So you want us to have a go at making Snape's potion, then get him to drink it," George guessed.

"Hey, good guess. Were you this bright in the books, or has the author made you a little smarter than usual?" Harry asked curiously.

George looked offended. "If anything, she's dumbed me down."

Then Fred and George disappeared off to do their important stuff, and Harry prepared himself for Snape's next visit.

* * *

The next day when Madame Pomfrey let him leave the hospital wing for good, Harry went straight to the headmaster's office, determined that something had to be done about Snape. Because after he'd got to thinking about it, he didn't entirely trust Fred and George's potion-making skills.

"Snape has gone mad!" he cried out, bursting through the door.

Dumbledore looked up idly. "Oh, hello Harry. Have a lemon drop. These things are the greatest!" He shoved a handful in his mouth.

"Oh, sure, thanks." Harry popped the candy in his mouth and sucked on it distractedly for a moment or two before remembering the purpose of his visit. "Professor, Snape's out of his mind!"

Dumbledore sat up. "Oh, that's right. You did say something about that when you came in, didn't you." He pulled out a stack of papers. "Now, what's the problem? Out of his mind, you say?" He shuffled through the papers. "Don't think we've got a form for _that_…"

"But he's been stalking me for the past two days!"

"Stalking you?" One of Dumbledore's eyebrows went up.

Harry was suddenly intrigued by the eyebrow. "Hey, that's cool, Professor! How'd you do that?"

"What, this?" Dumbledore raised one of his eyebrows again. "It's a gift, really."

"Let me try," Harry said. He screwed his face up into a look of concentration. "Is it up? Did I do it?"

Dumbledore broke into laughter. "Ooh, that's priceless. Do it again."

For a couple minutes more random randomness went on until Harry suddenly, again, remembered the purpose for his visit. "Wait a minute. Are you trying to distract me, Professor? I'm here to report that Snape's gone loony. And you keep changing the subject and distracting me with candy and your eyebrows and stuff. Is there something you don't want me to know?"

The headmaster hung his head in shame. "Harry, you've figured it out. You read me like an open book. You've seen past the web of lies and deceit. You've called my hand. You've –"

"Okay, okay! I get it. So what is it? What's going on? What is that you don't want me to find out?" Harry asked, his curiosity really piqued. Really, a lot.

"Harry, what I have to tell you doesn't go out of this room," Dumbledore said, pulling out his wand and sending random spells shooting around the room to protect them from any spying or other interference.

"Okay," Harry said, unable to believe his luck. Dumbledore was going to tell him a big secret! He couldn't wait to tell Ron and Hermione about this.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, leaning forward, "Professor Snape's potion has worn off. That's why he no longer hates you. All those repressed fatherly emotions are surging forward again, and he's lost the desire and the ability to fight them off. He's given in to them."

Harry sighed impatiently. "I already _know_ all that, Professor. Tell me something helpful, like how to make it stop. Or else tell me that big secret you were talking about."

Dumbledore looked rather sorrowful. "I wish there were something I could _do_, Harry, but I'm afraid it's hopeless."

"Hopeless?" Harry squeaked. "As in, you can't make him hate me again?"

"No, I can't." Dumbledore answered. "And the reason is, Harry…" he paused dramatically, "…Professor Snape is your father."

Harry collapsed into a nearby chair. "What? My father? But that means…"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Yes, I'm afraid it does. Your mother is Narcissa Malfoy."

"_What_?" Harry collapsed deeper into the chair.

"Didn't you know?" Dumbledore leaned forward. "Professor Snape was married to Narcissa until he discovered she was having an affair with Lucius. And then he sent her packing, but he never knew she was pregnant with you."

"But…but Draco…" Harry stammered.

"Well, and Draco of course. She was pregnant with you and Draco."

Harry stared without comprehension.

"You were twins, Harry," Dumbledore supplied.

"You mean…Draco's my…_brother?_"

"Twin brother." Dumbledore looked rather like he was enjoying this.

"But…no way! That's impossible. My parents are Lily and James Potter!" Harry insisted desperately.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Lucius didn't like the look of you. He told Narcissa to get rid of you one way or another, or he would. So she handed you off to the Potters. They were desperate for a baby. Only too glad to have you."

Harry grasped frantically at straws. "But I don't even _look_ like Snape! I look like Lily and James! My eyes! Look at my eyes!" He gestured frantically at his eyes and poked himself in one.

"Why don't you have a look at yourself, Harry," Dumbledore said, handing over a small mirror.

Reluctantly, with much trepidation Harry accepted the mirror. And staring back at him was his worse nightmare. It was a miniature version of Snape.

Harry didn't stop screaming for a full five minutes.

* * *

After he left Dumbledore's office, Harry wandered aimlessly. He was completely devastated. His world had collapsed around his ears. What was he going to _do? _Everything that he'd ever believed in was a lie!

Suddenly it came to him. He was going up to Gryffindor Tower and kill himself by whatever means possible. Maybe he'd Avada Kedavra himself in the mirror again. And _this _time he wouldn't make any mistakes.

He rounded a corner and came face to face with Snape.

"Harry! Here you are!" Snape said, delight written all over his face.

Harry looked down at himself. How had Snape recognized him? He didn't even look like the old Harry Potter anymore. Then it hit him. Snape must have known, all along. Snape _knew_ Harry was his son.

"The truth's out, you sicko," he told Snape angrily. "Thanks for ruining my life. And just so you know, I'm going to kill myself."

"What?" Snape's voice was filled with fatherly concern. "Kill yourself? But why?"

"I won't be your son!" Harry shouted. "I'd rather be dead!" He took off at an angry pace. Snape jogged to keep up.

"But…but Harry, can't you come to love me? We could be a family! I could help you with your homework! We could play quidditch together!"

Harry stopped short. "Oh, so I suppose you want me to change my name to Harry Snape now, is that it?"

Snape got a dreamy look on his face. "Harry Snape…what a nice ring that has to it…"

Harry took off running and didn't look back.

* * *

Ron, and Hermione were sitting in the Gryffindor common room talking when Harry came running in, so he decided to explain everything to them before he went up to kill himself.

"Oh, hi Harry," Hermione said, glancing up at him and doing a double-take. "Hey, you look –"

"Yeah, I know," Harry interrupted. "You almost didn't recognize me, huh."

"Well, actually I was going to say all hot and sweaty, like you ran the whole way up here. But okay."

"I just wanted to tell you guys that I just found out Snape's my father."

"Harry!" Ron jumped to his feet. "That's disgusting and horrible! We can't be friends anymore!"

"But I'm mad about it too!" Harry protested. "That's why I'm going up to my room to kill myself right now!"

"Oh good," Ron said,sitting down again. "I thought for a minute there we'd really lost you."

"So Snape's going to be running in here any minute, then, to save you?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, that's how it usually happens in these fics, I've heard," Harry mused. "But hold him off for a few minutes, will you, so I can get it done properly."

At that moment Snape ran into the room.

"I haven't done it yet, so get out!" Harry yelled at him.

"Oh, sorry." Snape left to await his cue.

Once he was up in his room, Harry decided that Avada Kedavra wasn't horrible enough to give Snape a sense of how much Harry really didn't want to be his son. So he decided to smash out the window and leap to his death. He had just broken the window out when he heard someone taking the steps two at a time, in quite a hurry to get up to his room. He leaped onto the windowsill.

"Harry, don't do it!" Snape yelled desperately, running into the room. "We've still never had any boy talk!"

Harry threw an annoyed glance over his shoulder. "What?"

"Can't you just see us, Harry?" Snape asked in a coaxing voice. "Saturday nights down in the dungeons sitting next to a warm fire, sipping hot cocoa and talking about your friends and classes and love life?"

Harry hesitated. It _would_ be nice to unload all his girl troubles onto somebody. Maybe he wouldn't jump after all…

"Can we have peanuts too?" he asked, turning slightly toward Snape. "And some pepper jack cheese?"

"Of course, Harry," Snape said. "Only come down off that ledge."

"Well, all right," Harry said, climbing down. "But I don't know how I'm going to explain this to Ron and Hermione. I was supposed to put up a fight for another two chapters before I finally gave in to being your son."

"Well, they'll get over it," Snape said, slinging an arm over Harry's shoulder. "So, you want to go throw the ol' quaffle around?"

Harry brightened. "You mean it? You really like to play quidditch?"

Snape folded his arms. "Harry, I'm surprised at you. Haven't you seen my plaque in the quidditch trophy case? Best darn towel boy the Slytherin quidditch team has ever seen."

"Oh…right," Harry said, trying to look impressed.

* * *

So Harry and Snape came down the stairs laughing and arm in arm. Ron and Hermione looked properly horrified at the sight, and especially when they overheard some of the conversation:

"I feel kind of bad about being so hard on you all these years, Son," Snape was saying. "Mostly it was because I hated your guts and I wanted to see you lying dead in a ditch somewhere."

Harry slugged him in the arm. "Oh, Dad, you're such a joker."

After they had left, Ron and Hermione looked at each other in horror. "We've got to _do_ something!" Hermione wailed, so the two took off running to the library. Chances were good in a story such as this that there would be a book full of answers just lying about and waiting to be found. It would be called something like _Potions to Cure Your Best Friend Who's Just Taken an Insane Liking for the Meanest Teacher in the Whole Wide World_.

* * *

Out on the quidditch pitch, Harry and Snape were having so much fun playing quidditch that neither noticed when Draco walked onto the field.

"Hey, can I play?" he called to Harry, looking lonely.

Harry dove for the ground and jumped off his broom. He'd suddenly remembered what Dumbledore had told him earlier about Draco being his brother. Twin brother. Maybe it was time to make the family reunion complete.

"Draco!" he said, running at him and throwing his arms around him.

"Wh-Harry! You've finally decided to be my friend!" Draco said joyfully, returning the hug. "You mean you really don't hate me anymore?"

Harry pulled back. So Draco didn't know they were brothers either. Harry craned his neck around, looking for Snape. Maybe he should be the one to tell Draco. But Snape was off somewhere flying on his broom. Harry turned back to Draco.

"There's something I have to tell you, Draco," he said solemnly. "Something very important. About your mother."

Draco suddenly looked uncertain. "You're not going to insult my mother, are you?" he asked suspiciously. "Because then I'll have to defend her honor, and we can't be friends anymore after that."

"No, not at all," Harry assured him. "I was just going to say that before you were born, your mother had an affair, and since she did –"

Draco's face darkened and he swung at Harry, connecting with his mouth. Harry fell backwards in a heap.

"Hey!" he said angrily, scrambling to his feet. "I'm trying to give you some good news here!"

Draco's hands were balled up in fists and he advanced threateningly on Harry. "Oh, by spreading lies about my mother?"

Harry held up his hands. "No, see, before she had the affair, she was married to another guy, and that guy was –"

Draco smacked him in the nose this time and Harry rolled backwards again. He leaped to his feet, blood pouring from his nose.

"Will you knock it off!" Harry yelled. "I'm not trying to insult your stupid mother! She's _my_ mother too!"

Draco leapt on him. "How dare you! My mother did _not_ have an affair with James Potter!" He pummeled Harry for a while and Harry screamed stuff about Draco being his twin brother, but Draco was too enraged to notice.

Finally Snape became aware that something was going on and flew down to investigate.

"Boys! Boys!" He pried them apart. "What's this all about?"

Draco folded his arms and glared at Harry. "_He_ keeps insulting my mother! Saying stuff about her being a…" he lowered his voice before continuing, "…loose woman."

Harry pulled himself to his feet and wiped at his face with one hand, smearing blood everywhere. "I did not! I was just trying to tell him about Narcissa. _You_ tell him, Professor. He won't believe me!"

Draco took another lunge at Harry. "How dare you call my mother by her first name!"

Snape held them apart some more, but looked a little confused. "What _about_ Narcissa, Harry?"

"You know, Professor, about the affair and everything."

Draco took another lunge. "I'll kill you!" he screamed.

Just then Fred and George came running out onto the pitch, followed closely by Ron and Hermione. They were all breathing heavily.

"Harry! Harry," Fred gasped. "Need to talk to you." He gasped some more.

Draco had his hands around Harry's neck. Snape was trying to pry them off.

"Little…busy right now," Harry choked out.

"It's important, Harry!" George insisted. "_Now!_"

Finally Snape got Draco pried away from Harry and incapacitated him with a Petrificus Totalus. While Harry went off to listen to Fred and George, Snape sat down to give Draco a lecture on the importance of anger management.

"Um, we finished your potion, Harry," George said, handing over a bottle. "To make Snape hate you again."

Harry smeared the blood around on his face some more. "Oh…thanks." He looked over his shoulder at Snape, then back at the four in front of him, his expression uncertain. "Well, see, now I'm not sure if I need it. We've decided to be father and son. And I was trying to tell Draco he's part of the family too, because see, he's my brother. Only he tried to kill me instead."

"Fred and George have something they want to tell you about that, Harry," Hermione quickly inserted. "Something very important."

"Yeah, Harry," Ron spoke up. "Hermione and I only came along to make sure you don't kill them or anything."

"What?" Harry asked with confusion.

"Uh…yeah," Fred said uncertainly. "About that. See, none of that stuff is technically true."

Harry looked even more confused. "What do you mean?"

"The part about Snape being your father and Narcissa your mother."

"And Draco your twin brother," George added.

"Wait, how did you know all that?" Harry asked. "Dumbledore only told me a couple hours ago and I haven't told anyone the whole story…" he trailed off.

"Well, you see, it's kind of a funny story, Harry," Fred said, laughing weakly.

"Yeah, real funny," George piped up.

"See, one of our investors was meeting with Dumbledore today, and we just wanted to make sure he put in a good word for us. We really could use the money," Fred explained.

"And Fred and I always keep some polyjuice potion on hand. Never know when that stuff'll come in handy," George said.

"And have you ever noticed Dumbledore's beard?" Fred continued. "That thing is shedding everywhere! So anyway, the truth is…"

The two spoke together. "That wasn't Dumbledore you talked to in his office today."

Harry looked stunned. "You mean…"

Fred nodded miserably. "It was me, Harry. But please don't kill me!"

Harry folded his arms and looked angry. "Why would I kill you?"

Relief washed over Fred's face. "Well, after that last chapter, no one's quite sure what you're capable of anymore. Anyway, when you came into Dumbledore's office today, all upset over Snape and his fatherly emotions, I just couldn't help myself. I had to play a joke on you. It was only later that I realized you'd probably hunt me down and kill me for what I had done."

Again Harry looked angry. "Will you stop saying that?" he asked irritably. Then another thought occurred to him. "But I _look _like Snape! You showed me in that mirror!"

Fred pulled the mirror out of his pocket. "It's one of our new inventions. We call it the Mirror of Worst Nightmares. It'll scare the crap out of anyone." He snickered. "Your reaction was classic." He immediately sobered at the look on Harry's face. "But don't kill me."

Harry sighed dismally and shook his head, feeling like an idiot. Fred and George watched him with trepidation, waiting for him to zap them to death. Finally Harry looked over his shoulder at Draco and Snape. "Well, what are we going to do about _them_?" he asked, gesturing. "I told Snape I wanted to be his son! I thought he was talking about biologically. I guess he just needed some outlet for those stupid fatherly emotions."

"Well, don't worry, Harry. We've got the potion right here," George said. "We just have to get him to drink it."

Harry, who didn't feel he had any energy left for another big fight, whipped out his wand and whirled on Snape. "Stupefy!" he shouted.

He turned back to Fred and George, who looked a little frightened again. "Oh, come on," he said with annoyance. "I'm not going to hurt anyone."

"Well, okay then," George said, although he didn't quite seem convinced.

"Just pour it all in," Harry instructed. Fred uncorked the bottle and poured the lot down Snape's throat.

"What now?" George asked.

Harry's wand was still in his hand. "_Ennervate_."

While Snape started to move again, Fred leaned in to whisper, "Perhaps we should warn you, Harry. It may be a tad bit stronger than usual."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

Suddenly Snape lunged to his feet. "Potter! I hate your filthy, slimy guts! I'm going to kill you as soon as possible! Then I will truly be happy!" He looked around and noticed there were witnesses. "Well, for now I'm just going to take a thousand points from Gryffindor." He began to stalk away, then turned around and came back. "But rest assured, _Potter_, one day soon you will be dead, courtesy of Severus Snape. Dead, dead, dead! Bwahahahahaha!" He stalked off again, laughing maniacally.

"That wanting to kill you part should wear off in a couple of hours," George assured him. "Well, probably."

They all turned to look at Draco, who was still incapacitated on the ground. Harry walked closer to speak to him.

"Look, Draco, it appears I was rather mistaken about your mother. She didn't have any affairs – at least, any that I know of – and she's likely a pillar of virtue. Well, apart from being married to a Death Eater. And the mother to a Death Eater in training." He released him from the Petrificus Totalus.

Draco scrambled to his feet, looking a little less murderous than before. After seeing them shove a potion down Snape's throat he figured a retreat was in order anyway. He ran off.

"We're really sorry, Harry," Fred and George said again.

"Us too, Harry," said Hermione and Ron, although it didn't really seem like they had anything to apologize for, other than being rather obnoxious.

"Oh, it's okay," Harry said, even though he was feeling a little melancholy now that his dream of the perfect father/son relationship was gone. He sighed deeply. There was only one thing to do.

"So how do you guys feel about peanuts and pepper jack cheese?" he asked.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Sheesh, Draco's a little overprotective of his mother, isn't he.

Upon review of this chapter, it's come to my attention that perhaps I've been a little insensitive to the subject of suicide. Please keep in mind that I in no way endorse suicide and the only reason I included any mention of it in this fic is because I find those suicidal Harry stories so ridiculous. And beyond that, isn't living so much more fun than dying?

Review and make my day!


	15. Harry's Excellent Adventure

**Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction**

**BY LARGEMARGE**

**Author's Note**: Cameo of a Time-Turner. Since I'm the one writing this story, it would be very good if I understood time travel. But I don't. In fact, it confuses the heck out of me. Oh well. Happy Valentine's Day, all!

**Disclaimer: I own a few things, but millions of dollars and Harry Potter are not among them.

* * *

**

**Harry's Excellent Adventure**

Harry was sitting in Transfigurations doodling on a piece of parchment when Filch ran in.

"Professor Dumbledore says Potter should get up to his office now!" he yelled, looking slightly maniacal.

Everyone began to whisper.

"What's going on, Harry?" Ron whispered.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he said nervously.

"Now, Potter!" Filch yelled, so Harry got up and followed him.

Up in Dumbledore's office, the headmaster was looking very solemn indeed. "Have a seat, Harry," he said, after dismissing Filch. "I have something very important to tell you." He reached inside his desk and pulled out a dusty glass sphere.

Harry jumped nervously when he saw it. It looked like those things he'd seen in the Department of Mysteries last year.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Yes, Harry. You have guessed what this is, I think."

"A…a dusty glass sphere?" Harry guessed.

"It's a prophecy, Potter!" Dumbledore said sharply.

"Oh, right. A prophecy."

"Yes. So as I was saying," Dumbledore continued after throwing a disapproving glance Harry's way, "It's a prophecy. To be more precise, it's a prophecy about _you_. It was discovered in the Department of Mysteries in an old abandoned room with lots of locks on the door. Apparently everyone forgot about it. Convenient for this chapter, isn't it?"

"I'll say," Harry said.

"Yeah, so this is the companion prophecy to the one you discovered last year. It reveals some more stuff about how you will defeat Voldemort."

"Really?" Harry asked interestedly. "What does it say?"

"Perhaps I should tell you what it's called first, Harry," Dumbledore said, looking at him over the top of his glasses.

"Okay." Harry shrugged. "Makes no difference to me. What's it called?"

Dumbledore leaned forward. "It's called…the Prophecy of Romance."

"The Prophecy of Romance?" Harry echoed skeptically. "What kind of a name is that?"

"Well, what else do you think the author would call it?" Dumbledore asked, folding his arms. "You _do_ know Valentine's Day is coming up, don't you?"

"Oh, right," Harry remembered.

"So anyway, let's break this sucker open and hear what it has to say," Dumbledore suggested.

"But isn't that the only one?" Harry asked with concern.

"Nah. There was like a hundred of these things in that locked abandoned old room. Guess it was a pretty important prophecy. Too bad we all forgot about it."

"Yeah," Harry echoed. "Well, let's hear it."

Dumbledore smashed the sphere on his desk. A pearly white figure rose up and began to speak.

"…the boy will bring balance to the force…his name will be Anakin Skywalker…he will become a great Jedi…" The figure dissolved.

"Huh?" Harry looked confused. "I don't get it, professor."

"Oops." Dumbledore looked embarrassed and began rooting around in his desk. "Must have grabbed the wrong one. Aah, here it is." He pulled out another dusty round sphere and cracked it open.

Another pearly white figure began to speak. "…Harry Potter must marry the one who moans in the second floor girls bathroom before midnight on St. Valentine's Day in his sixth year…together they will defeat the Dark Lord forever…plus they'll have really near-sighted children together…well, that's all for now…over and out…"

The figure dissolved.

"Marry who?" Harry asked in a horrified voice.

"Hmmm…the one who moans in the second floor girls bathroom…" Dumbledore mused. "Now who in the world could that be? Is there a sick student?"

Slowly Harry began to catch on to what the readers were already aware of. "Wait a minute…moaning in the girls bathroom…on the second floor…that's Moaning Myrtle!"

Dumbledore looked doubtful. "That whiny dead girl?"

Harry stood up and began to pace. "Professor, I can't marry Moaning Myrtle! She's a ghost! Plus she's really creepy."

"Well, Harry, ghosts are creepy," Dumbledore pointed out helpfully.

Suddenly Harry had a thought. "Hey, wait a minute!" He spun around, a suspicious gleam in his eye. He whipped out his wand and pointed it at Dumbledore. "All right, Fred. This isn't funny anymore."

Dumbledore looked slightly surprised. "Harry, if you're going to start calling me by my first name, you should know it's Albus."

Harry lowered his wand uncertainly. "You mean…you're not Fred?"

"It's _Albus_," Dumbledore enunciated clearly. "Doesn't even _sound_ like Fred."

With a sigh Harry flopped into a chair. "Well, I guess this prophecy thing is real, then. Don't you think I'm kind of young to get married, though?"

"You can't very well go against the prophecy, Harry," the headmaster pointed out. "You're going to have to marry Myrtle."

"A ghost!" Harry shouted.

"Well, naturally not," Dumbledore said. "Obviously you're going to have to use this." He held out an object.

Harry leaned in for a look. "A Time-Turner?" he asked skeptically.

"Yep. Go get Myrtle before she dies, bring her back here, and you'll be married before midnight on St. Valentine's Day. Then evidently you and Myrtle will defeat Voldemort together and have kids. Nearsighted ones. Or maybe you'll have the kids first and then defeat Voldemort," Dumbledore continued uncertainly.

Harry wrinkled up his nose at the reference to children. "But professor, what about the Chamber of Secrets and all that? If Myrtle comes back with me, doesn't that mean someone else could get killed instead? And maybe throw off all of time?"

Dumbledore leaned in close. "Harry, when are you going to learn that stuff like that doesn't matter in bad fanfiction?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, okay." He took the Time-Turner and threw it around his neck. "How many turns, d'you think?"

"About…a million forty-eight," Dumbledore calculated in his head. "But remember, Harry! You must come back to be married before midnight on Valentine's day! Do you understand?"

Harry paused to consider. "Wow, professor, St. Valentine's day is only a week away," he realized. "It's sure lucky that prophecy turned up this week and not next!"

"Yes, and convenient for this chapter too," Dumbledore agreed, just before Harry disappeared.

* * *

After 163 turns Harry lost count. He kept turning for another hour or so (well, never mind…that time reference is just going to confuse _everybody_). So anyway, Harry turned for a while, then he figured it was probably far enough, so he stopped turning and waited to see where he was. Or when he was. Whatever.

Well, he was still in Dumbledore's office. Looked pretty much the same, except for a little messier, maybe. Oh, and there was Young Dumbledore sitting behind the desk. He looked slightly surprised at sight of Harry.

"Hullo," he said. "Where'd you come from?"

Harry held up a hand. "I come from the future," he said distinctly. "I come in peace."

Dumbledore looked intrigued. "And you came back in time to see _me_?"

Wow, Young Dumbledore was an unbelievable egomaniac. Harry shook his head in disgust. "_No,_ I came back to see Moaning Myrtle. See, we're supposed to be married. Have I gone back far enough?"

"Moaning Myrtle?" A look of perplexity on his face, Dumbledore asked, "That whiny dead girl?"

Harry sighed. Not far enough. He began turning the Time-Turner again. A while later he stopped, figuring he _had_ to be back to Moaning Myrtle's time by now.

This time Dumbledore's office was empty. Harry looked around a bit, trying to find some indication of what time he was in. Finally he gave up and decided to go see what he could find out by snooping around the school a little.

In the hallway students were running around frantically. Harry stopped one of them.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Another student's been injured!" the kid shrieked. "Petrified. By some mysterious unknown evil! Boy, it's sure lucky no one's been killed yet!"

The student ran off, leaving Harry to smile to himself. Oh, yeah, he was good.

Now all he had to do was find Myrtle. Among other things.

* * *

So where else would Harry look but the second floor girl's bathroom? He knocked on the door, but nobody answered, so he went ahead and walked right in.

"Hello?" he called out. "Anyone here?"

One of the doors flew open. "This is a _girl's_ bathroom," Myrtle pointed out to him in a very cold voice. "And you're a _boy_, so go away!"

"Myrtle!" Harry cried out. "At last I've found you! I'm here to marry you!"

Myrtle burst into tears. "Why does everyone make fun of me? Just because I'm fat? And ugly? And I have a few pimples?"

"But Myrtle!" Harry rushed at her and grabbed her by the shoulders, "You're not ugly!" He paused. "Well, that is…you're not hideous." He paused again. "I mean…you're not maimed beyond all recognition, anyway."

Myrtle wailed louder. "Olive sent you, didn't she. I _hate_ that stupid Olive Hornby, and someday I'm going to _get_ her, just you wait and see!"

Harry sighed. This wasn't going well at all. He decided to try again. "Look, Myrtle –"

The bathroom door opened and a boy stepped in. It was – _dun dun dun – _some puny-looking kid Harry had never seen before in his life. He froze up when he saw Harry and Myrtle standing there.

"Oh, and I suppose _you're_ here to marry me too!" Myrtle yelled.

"I…uh…thought this was the boy's bathroom. Sorry." He ducked out.

Ha! You all thought it was going to be Tom Riddle, didn't you!

So anyway, after the kid left, Harry turned back to Myrtle. "Come with me to the future, Myrtle! It was foretold in a prophecy that after we're married, we'll defeat an evil dark wizard and have nearsighted children together!"

"You're from the future?" Myrtle asked.

"Yes, about fifty years or so," Harry calculated. "And even in my time you've got a thing for me."

Myrtle wrinkled up her nose. "What am I, a pedophile?"

Harry sighed. "Just…c'mon." He threw the Time-Turner's chain around her neck.

"Well…okay," she finally conceded.

"Oh, and by the way, my name's Harry Potter," he told her, just before they disappeared.

* * *

After a few false stops, Harry finally got them back to Valentine's Day. Which he knew because he asked some girl leaving the bathroom what day it was. She told him, but she sure gave him a strange look.

Myrtle looked around the bathroom. "Well, everything looks the same," she said. "Are you sure we're, like, fifty years in the future now?"

Suddenly there was a loud wailing above them. They both jumped and looked up.

Floating up near the ceiling was a ghost. "What are you doing in my bathroom!" she wailed. "Boys aren't supposed to be here –" She broke off. "Myrtle? Is that you?"

"Wilma!" Myrtle cried. "What happened? You're a ghost!"

Wilma the ghost shrugged. "I died."

"But how?"

"I don't know," Wilma said. "One minute I was in the stall, and then I heard a boy talking. So I opened the door to tell him to get out. And then I died."

"Wow…weird," Harry said. "I bet _that _doesn't happen every day. Well, let's get out of here, Myrtle." He grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the bathroom.

* * *

Dumbledore looked up blankly when Harry rushed into his office with Myrtle in tow.

"Harry," he said blankly. "What're you doing here? And who's this?"

Myrtle seemed surprised. "Professor Dumbledore?" she asked. "You're the headmaster now?"  
After staring at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, realization suddenly dawned on Dumbledore's face. "Can it be…Myrtle? But you disappeared from Hogwarts over fifty years ago! We all assumed you were another one of Hagrid's victims!"

"Hagrid's victims?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore gave him a strange look, because of course this was something that Harry ought to know. "Yes, you know, Hagrid. The evil murderer who's been in Azkaban all these years for the murders he caused when he opened the Chamber of Secrets."

"What?" Harry yelled. "This isn't fair! You never told me when I brought Myrtle back that people would get hurt!"

"Calm down, Harry," Dumbledore told him. "What do you mean, you brought Myrtle back? Can it be that you have…gone back in time?"

Harry gave a sigh and flopped into a chair. "Well, duh! The Prophecy of Romance, professor," he explained impatiently. "Don't you have it?"

Dumbledore stared at him blankly. Myrtle, meanwhile, had a seat and began doing her nails for as long as it took Harry to figure out what was going on.

"You know, all those dusty glass spheres in that secret locked room in the Department of Mysteries that everybody forgot about for all those years?" Harry prompted the headmaster.

Dumbledore continued to stare without comprehension.

"Look, Myrtle and I are supposed to get married. Before midnight tonight," Harry explained. "And then we're supposed to defeat Voldemort together. Now would you care to tell me what else has changed since I left? I suppose maybe Voldemort isn't even around any longer."

"Who?" Dumbledore asked blankly.

"You know, evil Voldemort, killed my parents?"

"Harry," Dumbledore said slowly, "Your parents were killed by Peter Pettigrew. That's how you got your scar. Don't you remember?"

Harry folded his arms. "Peter Pettigrew?" he asked skeptically. "But what about Voldemort? You know, Tom Riddle?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Harry, you're confusing me. Tom Riddle was another of Hagrid's victims when he opened the Chamber of Secrets."

"What?" Harry sat forward with surprise. "You mean…the basilisk got him?" He began to smile. "How appropriate. But in that case, there never was any Voldemort, then. No evil dark wizard always trying to off me…my life must be a breeze then, right?"

Dumbledore shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I don't know about that. You do invariably have a showdown with Peter Pettigrew every year. Well, actually, most people refer to him as Lord Scabbers. Or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Harry laughed. "You mean people are actually afraid of that coward?"

The headmaster folded his arms. "Well, he _is_ rather scary."

"Puh-lease," Harry said. "Well, I think if you have a look around the Department of Mysteries, you'll find a locked secret room full of a bunch of prophecies that I'm supposed to marry Myrtle here. Which is why you sent me back in time to get her."

Dumbledore shook his head slightly. "Harry, there's no prophecy, believe me."

"Sure there is," Harry continued. "It's a companion to the one I found last year in the Department of Mysteries."

Once again, that look of confusion.

"You know, the one that said Voldemort would kill me or I would kill him…wait a minute…" he trailed off as he realized Voldemort no longer existed.

"There _is_ no prophecy, Harry," Dumbledore said.

"But…but…you mean my fifth book doesn't even _exist_?" Harry demanded. "What about my second one? Did I even get to battle it out with the basilisk down in the Chamber of Secrets?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

Harry jumped up. "This stinks! Am I even a hero at all?"

"Well, you _did _receive the highest marks in Potions last year," Dumbledore pointed out.

"What! From that greasy-haired git of a professor?"

"If you're referring to Professor Snape, he teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry sighed and sank back into his chair, his head in his hands. "This timeline stinks," he finally said. Then another thought occurred to him. "What about Ron and Hermione? Do they exist?"

"Who?"

Harry gave a frustrated sigh. "Oh, and I suppose they're not my best friends, either."

"Well, if you're referring to Miss Granger, I see her quite often in the company of Mr. Longbottom."

"Neville?" Harry echoed. "Well, what about Ron?"

Blank stare.

"Weasley! Ron Weasley!"

The blank stare persisted.

"Professor, you know the Weasleys!" Harry shouted. "You've had a ton of 'em here at the school! Percy and Fred and George – you can't have forgotten Fred and George."

"Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, "The only Weasley I can recall was Arthur Weasley about forty years ago. As far as I remember, he's a professor in muggle studies at a school in Siberia. Nice old bachelor."

Harry sank lower into his seat. "Great! Just great! My life is completely ruined! And it's all your fault!"

Finally Myrtle set aside her nail file. "Look, are we getting married or what?" she asked. "Because if not, I've got very important things to do back in my time. I was planning some serious revenge for Olive Hornby when you walked into that bathroom, Harry."

He gave Dumbledore a glare. "This is all your fault, for assuming going back in time wouldn't change anything. Just because this is bad fanfiction doesn't mean the author doesn't want to get all literal every once in a while." He folded his arms and pouted.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, but Harry refused to be baited by it this time.

"If you're quite finished, Harry, I _do_ have some other important things to do," Dumbledore finally said.

"More important than me?" Harry huffed. "Like what?"

"Well, my afternoon soap will be starting in just a few minutes…"

Harry stood up. "Come on, Myrtle. This timeline is too weird to even consider staying in." He threw the Time-Turner's chain around her neck and began turning once again.

* * *

A short while later the two were back in the second floor girl's bathroom. Myrtle gazed sadly at Harry.

"Well, this is it," he said.

"Goodbye, Harry," Myrtle said, throwing her arms around his neck. "I'll never forget you, the first boy who ever wanted to marry me." She pulled away. "At least we'll always have Paris."

"Uh…right," Harry agreed. He backed away. "Look, I guess I'll see you in the future, all right?"

"Au revoir," she said, giving a funny little wave with her hand.

"Yeah, bye."

Harry left the bathroom, but he was determined to make sure that things turned out the way they were supposed to, so he hid around the corner and waited until he saw Tom Riddle approaching the bathroom. Once he was inside Harry crept near and listened. He heard Tom speaking, and then –

"What are you –"

And then silence.

Oh, yeah. Myrtle was dead, and all was well.

* * *

"Aah, Harry, you're back," Dumbledore greeted him. "But where's Myrtle?"

"1943," Harry responded. "And don't even ask me to explain. Because we're not getting married, no matter what that stupid prophecy says."

Dumbledore sighed. "Well, it's just as well," he said. "I've been doing some calculations, and I believe time could have really been thrown off by Myrtle not dying. Even if this _is _bad fanfiction."

Harry stared at him. "You think?" he finally said.

Then he went off to pout about what a lousy day of time-traveling he'd had. And Dumbledore was so preoccupied with his afternoon soap that he forgot to ask Harry for the Time-Turner back…

_Dun dun dun!

* * *

_

**Author's Note**: Yeah, I know it was totally random. I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of that time-turner...and I'm the author, so I oughta know. Oh, and has anyone missed Harry's animagus? Well, it'll be back, and soon…more good times ahead!

Now be a pal and review!


	16. The Mystery, What There is of it, Deepen...

**Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction**

**BY LARGEMARGE**

**Author's Note**: Ha! I'm back. You all thought I was gone forever, eh? Fooled you! I blame it all on my computer, which chose to bite the dust at the most inopportune time. But here I am writing to you from my new shiny computer. As Spider-Man would say, "I'm back! I'm back!" Okay, who's been watching too much Spider-Man 2?

**Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, blah blah blahbitty blee.

* * *

**

**The Mystery, What There is of it, Deepens**

Harry awoke. And stretched. Aah…it was another glorious morning at Hogwarts. And better still, today was the day of the much-anticipated Gryffindor/Hufflepuff quidditch match. And as we all know, quidditch is all that Harry lives for, so he was feeling pretty darn happy. If it wasn't for quidditch, he'd probably be lying dead in front of a mirror somewhere.

Anyway, the Gryffindors had been training vigorously for the match, mostly because Hufflepuff had gotten themselves a new seeker. And he was amazing, or so rumor had it. His name was Petey Gonzalez. His teammates claimed he could catch the snitch in under ten seconds.

"Not bloody likely," Ron had said when he heard the rumor. "_No one _can catch the snitch in under ten seconds. It's never been done! If Gonzalez can do it, I'll eat the sorting hat."

"If you eat the sorting hat, how will everyone get sorted?" Harry wondered aloud.

Ron gave him a look. "Fine. I'll eat…my socks."

"Ewww, your socks?" Harry asked. "Have you _smelled_ your socks lately?"

Another look. "The point is," Ron said impatiently, "no one can do it, so I won't have to eat anything!"

Harry pondered this statement for a moment before asking, "But if you don't eat anything, won't you starve to death?"

Ron went storming off muttering stuff about how the author had dumbed Harry down way too much. Which was probably true. Probably.

* * *

Right, so the quidditch match. The team was gathered in the Gryffindor changing rooms. The match was about to begin.

"Harry, I want you to keep your eye on Gonzalez at all times!" Ron barked at him. Not to be disparaging to dogs at all. "If he catches the snitch, our friendship is over! And as for the rest of you, if we don't win this match, I'm siccing Fred and George on the lot of you!"

Aah, the phrase to strike terror in the hearts of millions. Everyone exchanged looks of horror.

"I also think we should all remember how every kid needs a hero…blah blah blah…" Ron continued, but everybody stopped listening until Madame Hooch stuck her head in the room a while later.

"And furthermore, I feel that –" Ron was saying.

"Mr. Weasley, we're _waiting_," Madame Hooch said impatiently.

"For what?" Ron asked. "Oh, right, quidditch," he answered his own question. "Got carried away, I guess."

"It's okay, Ron," Harry spoke up, trying to make him feel better. "No one was listening anyway."

Strangely, Ron seemed annoyed at his words.

* * *

"Now, I want a clean match! No funny stuff!" Madame Hooch yelled.

"Not even any knock-knock jokes?" Harry pouted, but no one heard him over the blowing of the whistle and everyone kicking off into the air. He quickly followed suit.

Gonzalez was already speeding away toward some unseen target, so Harry sped after him.

And the game was on.

Gonzalez was all over the place, from one end of the stadium to the other. Man, he was speedy. But still no snitch in sight.

When Harry was certain that ten seconds had passed, he breathed a sigh of relief and let off of tailing Gonzalez. Well, at least Ron wouldn't have to eat his socks now. That wouldn't have been pretty.

Suddenly…a random Bludger of Death came flying straight at Harry out of nowhere!

"Harry! Look out!" his teammates and half the people in the stands yelled at him.

But Harry was much too focused on important things like finding the snitch – or that piece of chocolate he'd stuck in his pocket earlier, whichever he could locate first – to be distracted by every little thing being yelled at him by 500 people.

If he hadn't seen the snitch in that instant, the random Bludger of Death probably would have taken his head off. But at the last moment, Harry spied the snitch hovering below him and shifted in preparation for a deep dive. So the bludger only bowled him over and sent him plunging to the ground.

Harry grunted with pain and surprise, and then he realized that he was falling. Through a haze he thought to himself, _remember Ron's hero speech...and besides, I don't want Fred and George let loose on me...must...catch...snitch..._

He reached a hand out and felt it close around the snitch moments before he hit the ground. Then everything went all dark and painful and angsty.

* * *

"Is he gonna live?" a frantic voice was speaking nearby. "I'll do anything…you want my kidney? I'll give him my kidney!"

"Yeah, me too," another voice spoke up. "My liver too, if he needs it. And maybe I could spare him a lung…"

Somewhere close by another voice was wailing. "Oh, the pain, the anguish! Just let me die!"

"Can someone shut her up?" someone muttered. "It's not like she's about to die like Harry is."

"Just calm down, all of you. Harry's coming around, and I need you all to take a step back and let me look at him."

Harry opened his eyes to discover himself in the hospital wing surrounded by his teammates, as well as Hermione and Neville and Luna and Cho, and any other important characters the author may have forgotten to throw in there. Oh, and Madame Pomfrey, who was fighting a losing battle to push everyone out of the way and have a look at Harry.

"Harry! You're alive!" Ron clasped his hand.

Harry gasped in unbelievably unbelievable pain, because he'd broken all the bones in his arms and legs. And hand.

"_Don't...touch...me..._" he spoke between gritted teeth.

"Oh, sorry." Ron dropped his hand like it was a hot poker. "Are you in very much pain, Harry?"

"_Did...we...win_?" Harry managed through the pain. What a hero. Always thinking of quidditch first.

"You were magnificent!" Ginny beamed down at him. "You know how we all said it was impossible to catch the snitch in ten seconds? Well, you did it in twenty!"

"You were amazing, Harry," Ron piped in, and everyone standing around murmured an assent.

Nearby the wailing resumed. "I'll never walk again! I knew someday these students would get me! I just never imagined it would be like this!"

"Who's that?" Harry asked.

"Professor Hodgepodge," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"Just a little accident, mate," Ron interjected at the question in Harry's eyes. "I kind of…crashed into her in my haste to get to the ground after you fell. Broke both her legs."

Professor Hodgepodge screamed some more, and then Madame Pomfrey shooed everyone out of the room so she could take care of her two invalids.

* * *

After healing all his broken bones, Madame Pomfrey said Harry had to stay in the hospital wing for another couple of hours, just to make sure he was all right. In his screened off little bed with nothing to look at and no one to talk to, Harry soon drifted off to sleep.

He awakened some time later to discover hushed voices speaking nearby.

"…what do you mean, you don't want to tell him?" Harry immediately recognized Remus's voice.

"I just think that now is not the time," Buttercup replied, her voice sounding strained.

"We've been seeing each other for two months! When do you think the right time will be to tell him? When you're married with five kids?" Remus exploded.

"Lower your voice," Buttercup ordered. "And no, of course I'll tell Severus before _that._I don't even want five kids!"

"If you really love me like you say, then why should you hesitate to tell Snape it's over between you two?" Remus demanded. "He's still planning the wedding! It's just not right!"

"I've _told_ you, I'm not ready," Buttercup said in a cold voice. "Stop pushing me."

Harry could hear Remus pacing up and down. "I should have seen this coming…I never should have given up on _her_…she was the single greatest love of my life…"

"What are you talking about, Remus?" Buttercup interrupted. "_Who_ was the single greatest love of your life?"

The pacing stopped. "I've been so blind. I just hope she'll understand. Even if I have to wait a hundred years, it will be worth it if she'll have me…"

"No…no, wait!" Buttercup interrupted, sounding desperate. "No, I'll tell Severus, really I will! Don't go, Remus!"

"It's over, Buttercup," Remus said shortly. "Goodbye."

Then there was some cursing on Buttercup's part, which kind of surprised Harry. She looked so nice and sweet that to hear her swearing like a sailor was a little shocking. But he soon got over that surprise. Because other mysteries were afoot…

* * *

Harry fell to imagining who Remus's lost love could be. It was only a moment later that Snape came billowing into the hospital wing.

"Buttercup!" he bellowed angrily, striding past Harry's screened-off bed to reach his fiancé.

"Severus?" she inquired in a puzzled voice. Harry sat forward in anticipation of listening in on another lover's quarrel. Two in one day! What were the odds of that happening again?

"Buttercup, I demand to know the meaning of this!" Snape's voice drifted towards Harry's bed. "I found this letter lying on top of your desk. It's signed by…" Snape's voice lowered significantly and Harry strained his ears to hear. It sounded like he said "the dark lord," but Harry couldn't be sure. He wished he had his invisibility cloak with him so he could go nearer to eavesdrop.

"_Severus_!" Buttercup said in a strained voice. "Remember…little Gryffindors have big ears."

"What?" Snape sounded entirely confused. "What does Longbottom have to do with anything?"

"_Ahem,"_ she cleared her voice loudly. "I was speaking of a certain seeker_…_ with a _scar…_

There was another pause, and then Snape seemed to get it. "Oh, is Potter still here? Well, he can just get out then. I don't care if he _does _seem to think he's hurt…or dying…or whatever." Snape's head appeared around the privacy screen and stared at Harry. Harry stared blandly back.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, Buttercup." Snape withdrew his head. "Potter's not here. There's just some donkey I've never seen before lying on the bed."

"Oh," Buttercup said, sounding slightly confused. "Strange…I never heard him leave…"

"Let's not forget the topic at hand," Snape commanded, striding back to her side.

Harry jumped off the bed and stuck his donkey head around the screen.

"_You_ are in league with the dark lord. Admit it!" Snape accused.

She held up her hands. "Now, let's not jump to conclusions, Severus. Just because there's a letter on my desk signed by the dark lord does not mean I'm in his services."

Unnoticed, donkey Harry emerged from the screen and tiptoed closer to Buttercup's bed.

"Show me your arm," Snape demanded.

"My arm?" she echoed faintly. "What for?"

"So you can prove there's no dark mark on it."

Buttercup held her arm behind her. "It's…really very sore, Severus. I think that blasted Gryffindor may have broken it too…"

"Show me your arm!" Snape thundered.

Harry the donkey cowered underneath the neighboring bed. Buttercup reluctantly pulled her sleeve up.

"Oh, Buttercup, what have you done?" Snape moaned.

Harry poked his nose out from under the bed in time to see the dark mark emblazoned on Professor Hodgepodge's forearm. He gasped.

"What was that?" Buttercup's head whipped around and Harry drew his nose back under the bed. A moment later Snape was staring at him upside down.

"It's just that donkey again," he said over his shoulder. "Come on out, little fella. We're not going to hurt you."

Reluctantly, Donkey Harry emerged from under the bed. Snape patted him absently on the nose.

"Cute little guy, isn't he," Buttercup mused. "Wonder who he belongs to."

"We're not done here," Snape reminded her. "What do you expect me to tell Dumbledore now?"

"Nothing?" she suggested hopefully.

"I think not," Snape said shortly. "I'll just have to tell him my fiancé is a Death Eater."

"Well, if you think that's best," Buttercup said in a little, ashamed voice.

"A Death Eater," Snape repeated. "That sounds so awful. What are we going to tell our children?"

"Children?" she echoed.

"We can't very well tell them their mommy is in league with an evil dark lord who wants to take over the world, can we?"

She cleared her throat carefully. "But you're a Death Eater too."

"Ex-Death Eater," Snape insisted. "Now I work for the good guys."

"Oh, me too. I don't do any work for the Dark Lord now."

Snape sighed impatiently. "Buttercup, this letter is dated today."

"Fine! If you want to believe a letter and not your own fiancé, that's great."

"Stop lying!" Snape bellowed. "I can smell lies a mile away, and you reek of them!"

"All right, fine," Buttercup exploded, her voice equally angry. "Look, Snape," she said, and her voice wasn't very friendly. "That's right, I'm in league with the dark lord. And guess what else? I don't really want to marry you, either! I'm just here to kill you for your betrayal and then turn Harry Potter over to my master."

Snape gaped. "But – you mean you don't love me?"

She laughed. "Have you looked in the mirror lately? I mean, what have you got against shampoo, anyway?"

Snape looked crushed. Harry was a little shocked himself. That shampoo crack was a pretty low blow. Oh yeah, and Professor Hodgepodge was a Death Eater. That was shocking too.

"But…you don't really want to kill me, Buttercup," Snape finally said. "After all that we've meant to each other? You don't mean that."

"I assure you I do," she said coldly.

"But…you've had so many opportunities," Snape said desperately. "If you really wanted to kill me, then why haven't you done it yet?"

"I haven't decided quite how to do it," she responded. "But in the meantime, I'm rather enjoying carrying on with a certain werewolf."

Snape blanched. "Lupin?"

"That's right. We've become very…close."

Snape looked so crushed that Harry almost wanted to pop out and tell him that truthfully the two had just broken up. But he kept his donkey mouth shut.

"That…_werewolf_? Lupin? Seriously?"

Buttercup was definitely enjoying herself. "Yes. And you might as well know he's a much better kisser than you are."

He began pacing. "We've got to call off the wedding. What am I going to do?"

Buttercup was slowly pulling her wand out of her sleeve. Harry tried to get Snape's attention by butting his hand with his nose. But Snape was not interested in the donkey at the moment. "My fiancé's a Death Eater," he was muttering to himself. "This won't do at all…"

"Oh, Severus," Buttercup said sweetly.

Snape looked up to find himself staring at the tip of Buttercup's wand.

"I think I'll save killing you for another time, dearest. But for now, since I can't have you messing up my plans – _obliviate!"_

Harry ran away and hid under the bed again. He stayed there until after Snape left, when he assumed that surely now the terror was over.

But he was wrong.

* * *

Shortly after Snape's departure, there was a noise near the door. 

"Who's there?" Buttercup called.

All was still and silent.

"Come out or I'll come get you!" Buttercup commanded in a scary voice. "And believe me, the first option will be much more pleasant for you."

Harry poked his nose out from under the bed to see what was happening.

"I-I'm really sorry…I didn't hear much…" Petey Gonzalez came out from his hiding place behind a bed.

"Mr. Gonzalez," Buttercup said in a frosty voice. "Listening behind beds doesn't sound so innocent to me."

"I'm really sorry," the kid said in a pleading tone. "I only came to congratulate Harry…er…is he here?"

"Mr. Potter is not here."

"Oh, sorry. I'll just be going then." He turned to leave.

"Not so fast!" Her voice rang out and Gonzalez stopped in his tracks.,

"I really can't just let you go after all that you've heard, you know," she spoke calmly.

"Oh, but I didn't hear anything. Really," he claimed. "Just some stuff about wedding plans, I think. Then I just kind of…drifted off. I'm very tired after the quidditch game earlier. Really," he insisted.

She was staring at him and tapping her upper lip contemplatively. "You know, you'd make an excellent mouse," she said, tilting her head and squinting her eyes at him. "Creeping around the halls of the school, running from Filch's cat…"

"But…I don't want to be a mouse," Gonzalez said, his voice rising with alarm.

Moments later a terrified mouse ran over Harry's hoofs. Even though he knew it was just Gonzalez, it was still kind of creepy. And man, even as a mouse he was speedy.

Oh, and if he'd thought Fred and George were scary, Buttercup was ten times worse. Almost like Voldemort in a dress.

Voldemort in a dress…hey, that was a funny thought…

Anyway, Harry stayed under the bed for quite a while.

* * *

Finally Madame Pomfrey returned. While she fussed over Buttercup, Donkey Harry managed to slip out the door unobserved. Then he promptly transformed back into himself and headed straight for Dumbledore's office.

Something had to be done about evil Death Eater Professor Hodgepodge.

"Professor Hodgepodge is a Death Eater!" he yelled as he burst into Dumbledore's office.

No one was there. So much for his dramatic revelation. He went back downstairs and hunted up Professor McGonagall.

She was in her office shuffling through papers and looking busy. "What is it, Mr. Potter? That was some magnificent work on the quidditch pitch today, by the way. Feeling better, are you?"

"Where's Professor Dumbledore?" Harry demanded. "I have some urgent news to deliver to him."

McGonagall looked at him over the top of her glasses. "The headmaster has been called away on urgent business," she stated.

"What?" Harry asked with dismay. "Why does this only happen when I have important stuff to tell him?"

She shrugged. "Beats me. Take that up with the author."

He shook his fist at the sky. "Curse you, whoever you are!" he shouted. When he looked back at McGonagall, she was watching him with a worried expression.

"I don't really want to be the one to tell you this, but the headmaster's urgent business does involve you in a way," she said hesitantly.

"What?" he demanded. "What is it?" he took a seat across from her. "Have you found Sirius? He didn't really die?"

She gave him a look. "That only happens in fanfiction."

"This _is_ fanfiction," he reminded her.

"Oh yeah. Well, he's still dead. The bad news is that someone else might be too." She handed Harry a piece of parchment. "This note was pushed under the door to Professor Dumbledore's office earlier. It seems rather serious."

Harry read over the note. "I've got the werewolf, and he'll be dead within the hour unless you meet all my ransom demands." It was signed with the letter V.

"But…but how do you know what werewolf he's talking about? It could be anyone!" Harry said desperately.

"Read the back," she told him.

Harry flipped the note over. "P.S. I'm talking about Remus Lupin." He gasped and threw the note down, then stood and began pacing.

"Now, stay calm, Potter. The headmaster is already seeing to his release. Professor Lupin will likely be back with us within the hour."

"But what's being done?" Harry demanded. "What does Voldemort want?"

"He's being rather unreasonable," McGonagall said, pushing another piece of parchment across to Harry.

He picked up the note and read, "In exchange for Lupin I want five first-years that I can train to be my minions. And 25 cheese wheels."

Harry whistled. "That _is_ unreasonable. 25 cheese wheels?"

She gave him a look. "And we can't very well go around handing out first-years either," she pointed out.

He collapsed into the chair and covered his face. "This is horrible! I can't believe this is happening. I just saw him a little while ago…he was fine then…"

"Where was he?" McGonagall inquired.

"In the hospital wing," Harry explained. "He was talking to Professer Hodgepodge –" Suddenly he gasped. "Wait a minute…s_he's_ behind all this! I don't know how, but she did this to Remus!"

"What do you mean?" McGonagall asked, sounding confused. "Buttercup would never –"

There was a knock on the door.

They exchanged a worried glance before McGonagall called, "Come in."

Professor Dumbledore entered, looking old and defeated.

"Where's Remus?" Harry asked in a high, agitated voice.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid I was too late, Harry," he said sorrowfully. "There was nothing I could do."

"You mean…" Harry trailed off in horror.

"Yes. Remus is gone."

Harry felt himself falling. Figuratively as well as literally. Once again, everything was all dark and painful and angsty, and then he didn't remember anything for a very long time.

* * *

**A/N: **Once again, sorry for the six-week hiatus! Stuff happens.

Review!


	17. Hermione and the Lying Marauder

**Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction**

**BY LARGEMARGE**

**Author's Note**: Two for the price of one! Actually, they're both free…so never-mind. Thank you everyone who has reviewed, despite erratic updating…you guys are the best! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: Same as all the others.

* * *

**

**Hermione and the Lying Marauder**

Harry stared out the window morosely. It was the day after the quidditch match. One day since…Remus had died. So far Harry hadn't done anything but drag himself out of bed and stare out the window, contemplating suicide. There was a mirror right there; all it would take was one little flick of the wrist and an Avada Kedavra, and he'd be dead. Then all his problems would be over.

But that would be a dumb ending, so instead, Ron walked into the room at that moment.

"Hey, Harry," he said hesitantly. "How're you feeling?"

Harry didn't answer.

"I know you're still upset about Remus and everything…you want to talk about it?"

Harry turned away so he didn't have to see the outline of Ron in his peripheral vision.

"They've put up a memorial to Remus down in the entrance hall," Ron continued. "Do you want to go look at it?"

When Harry didn't respond, Ron went on. "Say, it's the strangest thing…apparently Petey Gonzalez has gone missing."

Harry didn't even blink.

"No one seems to know where he could have gone to. I think he's probably just off pouting because you caught the snitch so fast."

After Ron left, Harry continued to contemplate dismal, depressing thoughts. He didn't even care about seeking revenge on Professor Hodgepodge. Voldemort had won. Harry would concede defeat and kill himself like any graceful loser.

He picked up his wand and stepped closer to the mirror. Then he noticed a big zit beginning on his chin, so he wasted a few minutes trying to pop it.

Okay, anyway. Back to the Avada Kedavra. Harry raised his wand and pointed it at the mirror. _Here goes nothing_, he thought grimly. He opened his mouth. And –

Hermione walked in. "Hello, Harry," she said cheerfully. "What're you doing?"

He dropped his arm in defeat. Would no one let him die in peace?

"Practicing a spell?" she asked.

"Sure," he muttered, dropping onto his bed.

"I just wanted to have a go at cheering you up," she said, sitting down next to him. "Ron said you were just moping around. You know that's not good for you," she chided.

Harry sighed and stared at his feet.

"It is a shock, though," Hermione continued. "Poor Remus."

He grunted.

"If only I still had my Time Turner," she went on. "Maybe we could go back and warn him, at least."

Harry sat up.

"Although I suppose – Harry?"

He had leaped off the bed and was digging through his trunk.

"What're you – Harry, what is it?"

He jumped to his feet, the Time Turner clutched triumphantly in his hand.

She gasped. "Where did you get that?"

"Doesn't matter," he grunted. "I'm going back to save Remus." He threw the chain around his neck.

"But…but Harry, you can't alter time! I was just…just _talking_..."

"I'm not going to _alter_ time," he said impatiently. "Well, okay. Maybe just a little bit."

Hermione grabbed his arm. "If you insist on going, then I'm coming with you."

"Oh, all right," Harry said impatiently, tossing the chain around her neck too. He began to turn the hourglass.

"But you're _not _going to alter time," Hermione insisted.

"Oh, yes I am," Harry replied. "And you know what, while I'm time traveling, I think I'll go back and save Sirius from falling through the veil and my parents from being killed too," he taunted her.

"But Harry, you can't!" Hermione wailed. "Bad stuff could happen!"

"Like what?" he demanded.

"Well…I don't know!" she said desperately when she couldn't come up with anything. "But I bet it could!"

"Well, even so," he concluded. "As crappy as my life is, I think it's time I did something to fix it."

"But what if –" she broke off. "Harry, you only needed to give that thing a few turns. How many times have you turned it?"

He suddenly realized the same thing. "Um…I'm not sure. A few hundred?"

"Oh, Harry!" She hit him on the arm. "You've got to be _careful_ with those things! How many times have I told you you've got to be careful with them?"

He sighed. "Well, let's just see where we are, and then calculate how far we've got to go back."

She gave him a disapproving look. "I don't suppose there's anything else we can do," she said grudgingly.

So Harry stopped turning the Time Turner.

* * *

The boys' dormitory was empty and held no answers to the question of what time they were in, so the two took to the castle halls, hoping to run into something or someone that would reveal what year it was. 

And then…they rounded a corner and came face to face with – a kid who looked just like Harry! Hermione was so surprised, she dropped the Time-Turner and it broke into a thousand pieces!

Not built to last, those Time-Turners.

"Oh no!" Hermione shrieked. "What are we going to do? That was our only way home, Harry! We're stuck here forever! Waaaahhh!"

The boy watched Hermione's freak-out with a kind of fascination, before he noticed Harry.

"Hey, you look just like me!" he said, stepping past Hermione, who was continuing to wail. "Are we related?"

"Um, maybe?" Harry guessed. "Potter?"

"Yeah. You too?"

Hermione ran down the hall wailing and pounding on walls in frustration.

"Yeah."

"Weird…" the kid said. "I didn't know I had any cousins at Hogwarts. I'm James." He stuck his hand out.

"Harry."

They shook hands before Harry turned to yell after Hermione, "Hey, Hermione, do you know who this is?"

She wasn't paying attention, but was coming back their way babbling and incoherent.

"Did you _hear_ me, Harry? I said we're _stuck_ here _forever_!" She wailed some more and pounded on his chest with her fists.

Real drama queen, that Hermione.

"May I be of assistance?" a deep voice suddenly spoke nearby. Everyone turned. A devastatingly handsome young man was watching Hermione with concern.

She swooned.

"Oh, hi Remus," James greeted him. "Check it out. This kid looks just like me. Weird, huh."

But Remus was paying too much attention to the swooning Hermione to notice. "Your friend here seems…a little worked up," he pointed out to Harry.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Harry said sarcastically. "Maybe you should take her to the hospital wing and see if they've got a calming draught or something."

So Remus and Hermione disappeared off to the hospital wing, and Harry had a little chat with James.

"So, a Time Turner," James mused, helping Harry to gather all the pieces of the broken object in hopes of putting it back together later. "Does that mean you're from…the future?"

"Yes, we are," Harry confirmed.

"Do I know you? You know, in the future?" James asked.

"Well, you're my father," Harry said. Then he clapped a hand on his mouth. "Shouldn't have said that."

"Your father? Really?" James looked intrigued. "Who's your mother?"

"Lily Evans," Harry said, before clapping his hand over his mouth again. "Shouldn't have said that either."

"Lily Evans? Really? Are we good parents?"

"Well, you're both dead." This time Harry clapped both hands over his mouth. "Wow, shouldn't have said that at all."

"Dead?" James looked devastated. "How did we die?"

Harry shook his head, his hands still over his mouth. "Huh-uh. I'm not saying anything else. Hermione will kill me when she finds out I said anything at all."

"But if you tell me," James wheedled, "Maybe I can stop it from happening!"

"No way," Harry said. "Hermione says bad stuff happens when you mess with the past."

"Like what?" James demanded.

"Well…I don't know. Probably my head will explode or something."

They picked up the last pieces of the Time Turner in silence.

Just then another kid showed up, punching James in the shoulder. "Hey, what's going on?" he asked. Then he noticed Harry. "Hey! This kid looks just like you!" He looked back and forth from James to Harry.

"Sirius, he's from the future," James explained. "Just broke his Time Turner."

"No way!" Sirius looked intrigued. "What's the future like?"

Harry shrugged. "Just like now," he replied vaguely. "Only…different."

"He's my son," James continued. "And guess what? I'm going to marry Lily Evans!"

"No way," Sirius said. "She'd never marry you."

"Temporary insanity, maybe," James shrugged.

"Do you know me in the future?" Sirius demanded. "Am I married to a hot chick too? What's my life like?"

"Kinda crappy," Harry mused. He went to clap a hand over his mouth, then shrugged. What was the use?

"Crappy?" Sirius repeated. "Like how?"

Harry sighed. "Well, you spend ten or so years in Azkaban and then you break out and live on the lam for a while, and then you end up getting killed by your own cousin."

Sirius gasped. "I'm dead too?"

Harry waved a hand. "Oh, get over it. _Everybody_ dies in the future eventually."

Both Sirius and James were lost in melancholy thought until Hermione and Remus showed up a moment later. Hermione seemed much more relaxed. In fact, she hardly even noticed Harry at all. She was much too busy staring deep into Remus's eyes.

"So guess what, Remus," Sirius said gloomily. "In the future, we're all dead."

"Yeah, Remus too," Harry sighed miserably. "You were the reason we came back in time. You just got killed by Voldemort."

"Um…what?" Remus looked around, noticing the three of them for the first time. "Did somebody say something?"

Harry sighed. Weird things were afoot.

* * *

So Harry and Hermione were stuck in the past for a while. For as long as it took Harry to fix the Time Turner, anyway. Because it's not like they could just find another Time Turner to use instead. 

As the days and weeks passed, Hermione and Remus grew closer and closer. Harry, meanwhile, spent his days attempting to reassemble the Time Turner and withstand Sirius and James's wheedling requests for information about the future. Oh, and Harry also eventually met Peter Pettigrew, but as he was a future traitor and evil Death Eater, Harry only glared at him and put a trip jinx on him when his back was turned. And then he was relevant to the chapter no more.

* * *

One afternoon Harry held up the Time Turner with triumph. "I've got it!" he yelled. "The Time Turner is fixed!" 

Nearby Hermione burst into tears and clung to Remus. "I can't leave you!" she sobbed. "It will break my heart!"

"You must be brave," Remus told her. "Be brave for me!"

Harry tried not to be sick.

"You don't belong in this time," Remus told her. "The future needs you."

"But you're not there," Hermione sobbed. "How can I live without you?"

At that point Harry had had enough, so he turned to James. "Well, dad, I guess it's time to go back to the future," he said.

James looked a little sad. "Are you sure you have to go?"

"Yeah. And in case you ever decide to become involved in taking out Voldemort, I would advise you not to trust a certain worm-tailed little friend of yours."

James looked confused. "Wait, is that a clue as to how I'm going to die? Can't you be a little more specific?"

"Peter Pettigrew's a traitor!" Harry yelled.

"Oh, okay. Well, that's specific enough," James concluded. "Thanks."

"What about me?" Sirius pouted. "Aren't you going to tell me how I die?"

"Don't get in any duels with your cousin," Harry advised him. "And stay away from the Department of Mysteries, even if you think I'm going to get killed."

"Will do," Sirius agreed.

And then Harry and Hermione were off to the future, Hermione sobbing the whole way.

* * *

When they arrived back in the boys' dormitory in their own time, Remus was sitting on the bed. 

"But…but…you died!" Hermione and Harry sputtered together.

Remus smiled. "I hate to admit it, but…I planned the whole thing. I faked my kidnapping and death."

"But…why?" Harry asked with dismay. "I nearly killed myself!"

Remus took Hermione's hand. "I couldn't wait for you to meet me in the past, dearest Hermione. I need you in my life."

Hermione burst into tears and clung to Remus. "I need you too!" she wailed.

"It's _killed_ me all these years not to be able to say anything to you…" he murmured.

"What about _me!_" Harry yelled. "I nearly killed myself for you! And you were just faking so Hermione would go back and fall in love with you!"

But neither of them were paying any attention to him at the moment.

Disgusted, Harry stomped away. Then stomped back.

"I just want to know, did my warnings help Sirius and my parents at all? Are they still alive?"

Remus looked up briefly. "Nah. They all died just the same. I guess some things are meant to be."

Harry stomped off again. Then stomped back one last time.

"I just want you both to know, you're thoughtless, selfish people, and I hope you have malnourished children! Lots of them!"

Since they still weren't listening, Harry didn't get hardly any satisfaction out of the statement. Throwing up his hands in defeat, he went off to find Dumbledore. Maybe he'd let Harry sit in on his afternoon soap. Oh yeah, and maybe it was time to bring up that little detail about Buttercup being a Death Eater…

* * *

**A/N:** Once again, I don't endorse suicide! 

Review! Pretty please!


	18. Love is Painful, and so is Stupidity

**Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction**

**BY LARGEMARGE**

**Author's Note**: Well, here's the deal. I'm really going to finish this story.Every so often I get reviews asking me where the heck I went off to. The truth is I've just been moving and starting a new job and blah blah blee…who cares. So encourage me. I'm only about six chapters from finishing!

**Disclaimer: Really. I don't own Harry Potter. Just like to mess with him.

* * *

**

**Love Hurts, and So Does Stupidity**

Harry burst into the headmaster's office. "Chocolate-covered grasshoppers?" he demanded.

Dumbledore shrugged. "_You_ try coming up with a different password every week," he said fretfully. "Besides, they're not half bad, even though their legs _do_ tend to get caught between your teeth." He flipped open a pocket knife and began picking at his gums.

"Never mind," Harry said, holding up his hands. "I don't want to know." He took a seat and assumed his _I'm really, _really_ serious_ pose. "I just came to tell you…" he paused dramatically, "…Professor Hodgepodge is a Death Eater."

Dumbledore held out a box. "Mmm…yes, I know. Care for a cayenne-covered cockroach? I'm testing these out for next week's password. It's between these and the cinnamon-scented centipedes."

"You _know_?" Harry exploded. "You've intentionally put us all in danger? And got Petey Gonzalez turned into a mouse?"

Dumbledore glanced up as he munched on a centipede. "Oh, so that's where he's gone off to. I wondered. Say, these aren't half bad, if you overlook the risk of biting into a poisonous one."

Momentarily distracted, Harry wrinkled his nose. And noticed for the first time the piles of boxes covering Dumbledore's desk. "Professor, what's all this?"

The headmaster shrugged. "Oh, I got a catalogue from Bugs R Confections a few weeks back. Figured it was worth a try. I have a small candy obsession, you know."

"I know," Harry said. "I've been in all the books, remember?" Curiosity getting the better of him, he picked up the nearest box and opened it. A giant fuzzy spider lay nestled inside. "Ewww…this doesn't even look appetizing!"

"Aah, the tarragon tarantula," Dumbledore nodded. "Tragedy, that combination."

Harry threw the box down and remembered the reason why he was there. "Look, professor, are you telling me that all along you've known Hodgepodge is a Death Eater, and still you've inflicted her on us?"

Dumbledore folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, fixing Harry with a piercing stare. "Look, Harry. I'm the headmaster and you're not. So I can do whatever I want, and I don't really have to explain myself to you. Got it?"

Briefly taken aback, Harry stammered, "But…but…it's _me_! Harry! If you tell any student your secrets, it's me!"

"I don't appreciate being questioned," Dumbledore pouted. "Besides, I think you need to go now. You're probably late for a class or something."

"No, not really," Harry said.

"Well, get out anyway, will you? And take the tarantula with you."

Pouting, Harry stood and moved toward the door. "Fine!" he flung over his shoulder. "We can't be friends anymore!"

As he was about to run out of the room, Dumbledore held up a hand. "Oh, I nearly forgot. I got word a couple days ago that someone wants to kill you. So we're bringing in Tonks to keep an eye on you."

Harry paused in the doorway. "Someone wants to kill me? You mean besides Voldemort?"

Dumbledore pulled out a piece of parchment and ran an eye over it. "Hmmm…let me see. Dear Professor Dumbledore, just wanted to let you know I want to kill Harry Potter…dead, dead, dead, deader than a doornail. By the way, I am not Voldemort." He set the parchment aside. "Yes, this all seems to be in order."

"But…Tonks?" Harry folded his arms. "I don't need Tonks following me around. That's the _last_ thing I need."

"Oh, cheer up," Dumbledore said. "It'll only be for…" he calculated on his fingers, "…the rest of the term."

"_What?_" Harry exploded. "The rest of the term? This is totally unfair! I can take care of myself! I don't need Tonks following me around, attracting attention."

Dumbledore shrugged. "Still, since I _am_ the headmaster…" he shoved a cockroach in his mouth and the rest of his words were muffled.

"I know, I know. _You_ get to do whatever you want." Harry stomped out of the room and down the revolving staircase, complaining all the way. "I swear…gone stark, raving…old man…"

Above him, the door popped open and Dumbledore stuck his head out. "I was going to say," he called after Harry, "Since I'm the headmaster, I can eat another cockroach if I feel like it!"

Harry stomped down the hallway, muttering, "Bloody bugs."

* * *

When he entered the Gryffindor common room, it was empty except for one lone figure hunched in front of the fireplace: Ron. After his conversation with Dumbeldore, Harry was in a particularly nasty mood. And as luck would have it, he _did_ just happen to have a large, disgusting spider nestled in his pocket. Perhaps he'd just torture Ron a bit…

He crept closer to the hunched figure, pulling the tarragon tarantula out. He'd just freak Ron out a little. Yeah, that's it. If he could just make Ron scream like a girl and cower behind some furniture, _then_ Harry would feel better.

In that instant, Ron turned and looked over his shoulder. Harry shoved the spider behind his back.

"Oh…hullo, Harry," Ron sniffed, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. "Didn't hear you come in." He turned back to the fireplace.

Harry stopped short. Ron was…crying? Well, even though the spider joke would have been a great one…regretfully he shoved the tarantula back into his pocket.

"So, what's eating you?" Harry asked, sitting down. "Stub your toe?"

Ron choked on a sob. "Hermione…dumped me!" he wailed. "Says there's nothing between us anymore…but air!"

"Oh." Harry sobered a little. He'd almost forgotten about Hogwarts' latest love connection.

"Bloody werewolf," Ron growled. "Cradle robber, that's what he is."

"I guess so," Harry said.

"You guess so?" Ron demanded. "Aren't you worried at all? Remus could turn her into a werewolf, just like he almost did to you! How would you like that? Huh? Huh?" He poked Harry in the chest a few times.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I guess that'd be bad, yeah."

"You guess?" Ron stood up. "Looks like I'm alone in my concern for Hermione." He squared his shoulders. "Well, I'm not going to let him get away with it. I'm going to challenge Remus to a duel."

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" Harry asked doubtfully. "He's a werewolf, you know."

"I _know_ that," Ron said. "And if he turns me into one, you're the first person I'm coming after!" He stomped away angrily.

Harry frowned to himself. He should have just freaked Ron out with the spider anyway. Hearing him scream like a girl would have been way more entertaining than listening to him whine about Remus.

* * *

In the middle of breakfast the next morning, Tonks walked into the Great Hall and approached the Gryffindor table. Seeing the familiar colorful head drawing near, Harry's stomach suddenly made an unexplained lurch.

"Hi, Harry," Tonks greeted him, sitting down across the table. "How're you doing?"

"Fine," Harry muttered, not looking up. Maybe if he didn't look at her she'd just go away.

Since Ron was busy looking hurt and forlorn and Hermione was gazing adoringly at her breakfast (and sighing and laughing at nothing in particular every so often; it was disgusting, really) Neville picked up theslack.

"Tonks? What're you doing here?" he asked around a mouthful of eggs.

"Oh, I'm just here on some official Auror business," she replied vaguely, helping herself to the food on the table. "Just pretend I'm not here."

"I certainly wish I could," Harry muttered, but since neither Ron nor Hermione were paying any attention to him, nobody asked him to repeat himself. Harry felt a little disappointed. He tried again.

"I'd _like_ to pretend you're not here," he said a little louder, but still under his breath.

"What's that you're saying, Harry?" Tonks asked.

Harry looked around angrily. Neville was talking to Dean, Ginny was scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment in front of her, Ron was glaring at Hermione, and Hermione was staring at the ceiling and playing with her hair. _No one was paying any attention to Harry._

"Never mind," Harry said crossly. He stood up. "I think I'll go now."

No one looked up.

"I said I think I'll go now!"

Tonks stood. "Good idea, Harry. I should go too. Shall we walk together?"

Even though he was mad at all his house mates, Harry decided he couldn't be mad at Tonks, especially when her hair was turning that adoreable shade of pink. Adoreable? What? _Where did that thought come from?_ he asked himself.

Aloud he said, "Well, okay," His heart began fluttering unaccountably.

In the entrance hall Tonks took hold of his elbow. The flutters increased.

"I'm really sorry about this, Harry," Tonks said. "I know how you must feel about being shadowed by me for the rest of the term. I'd feel the same way."

"Uh…yeah," Harry said distractedly, trying to tear his gaze from Tonks' mesmerizing eyes.

"Well, just so you know it wasn't _my_ idea. _I_ think we should all just leave you alone and let you have as normal a life as possible," she proclaimed.

Harry suddenly realized that was the nicest thing any girl had ever said to him. And besides that, Tonks was really hot. _What? Really hot? What's the matter with me?_ Harry thought to himself.

"Uh…I should go," he stuttered, suddenly overcome by all the strange thoughts he was having. He turned and scurried off.

What was going on? He'd sworn off girls forever, hadn't he? What, one bright pink head of hair and he was history, just like that? But he hadn't felt this way since…Ginny. Well, except for that Valentine's Day thing with Myrtle, if it could be called anything but weird.

"So, where you going?"

Harry jumped. Tonks was by his side, keeping pace with him.

"Uh…I don't know. Class or something."

She smiled. "Well, I have to keep an eye on you, remember? Where you go, I go."

Dang. He did remember Dumbledore saying something about that.

"Uh…the loo," he said. "I have to go to the loo. You can't go in there, can you?" he asked hopefully.

"Well, I guess not." She looked a little disappointed. "But I'll be waiting right outside."

In the bathroom Harry tried to gather himself. He didn't want to make a complete and utter fool of himself in front of Tonks. That would be bad. He breathed in deeply a lot and told himself to calm down. When he was positive he wasn't going to do anything stupid, he left the loo.

"I think you better hurry, Harry," Tonks said, cocking an eyebrow at him. "You're going to be late for class."

It was the eyebrow that did it. Threw him over the edge, I mean. "Oh, Tonks! I can't take it anymore!" Harry flung himself down on the ground in front of her. "I know I'm not worthy of you, but I think I love you!" He smothered the ground by her feet with kisses, then got some floor lint stuck to his mouth. He spent some embarrassing moments picking fuzzy things off his lips and wondering feverishly why Tonks hadn't said anything yet. Finally he dared a look upward.

"Oh, Harry," she said. "At last I can tell you how I really feel about you!" She flung her arms around his neck.

* * *

For a couple days they were blissfully happy, though they had to keep their love a secret. You never know, Tonks could probably lose her job or something. It wasn't until a few days had passed that the author remembered how the Harry/Tonks relationship was commonly referred to: Honks. And this definitely must not be. So it was on the third day of being madly in love with each other that Tonks suddenly remembered. She was here to protect Harry.

* * *

Harry was on his way to class, Tonks hovering by his side or occasionally dropping a a few paces behind to observe bystanders discreetly.

"Hey, Harry!" Colin Creevey stopped to talk. "I have something that you've been asking for for a while." He began to reach into his bag.

"Nooooo!" Almost in slow motion, Tonks jumped forward and shoved Harry out of the way. He slammed into the wall, then slithered to the ground.

"It's only the quill I borrowed from him weeks ago," Colin said, sounding bewildered. "What's the big deal?"

"Oh, and what kind of quill is this, Mister?" Tonks demanded. "Some kind of special poison quill?"  
"Just the one Harry loaned me," Colin replied, very much baffled.

"Uh-huh. Well, I think we ought to go have a little talk with the headmaster about this little quill of yours," Tonks said, grabbing Colin by the ear. "I have to go, Harry. Duty calls," she flung over her shoulder.

Dazed, Harry pushed himself to his hands and knees. Blood was gushing from his nose, which was broken. He limped off to the hospital wing all by himself.

* * *

"Harry, where have you been?" Tonks demanded later when she found him in the Gryffindor common room. "I've been worried sick! I've searched the whole school!"

"Just the hospital wing," he said, trying to make it sound casual.

"The hospital wing? What happened?" Tonks demanded.

"Uh...just a little accident," he explained. "Silly of me. Hit my nose on the wall."

"Poor Harry," she said, patting his hand. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there to protect you."

He smiled feebly. "Yeah."

She layed her head on his shoulder. "I missed you this afternoon, sweetie. It was terrible to be away from you." She was silent for a moment, then continued. "You wouldn't believe the stories that Creevey kid was coming up with about that quill. Fast talker, that kid. Definitely thinks on his feet. But I've got my eye on him."

"I really think he's okay," Harry insisted, but Tonks cut him off.

"Oh, Harry. You're so cute when you're trusting." Then they snogged for a while, so he forgot all about Colin and the silly quill.

* * *

Harry was on his way down to breakfast the next morning when Ron caught up with him in the hall. "The duel's in a month," he said in a low voice. "In the Forbidden Forest."

"A month?" Harry echoed. "Anything could happen in a month! They could have broken up by then!"

Ron looked foolish. "His schedule's really booked, okay?"

"I really don't think –" Harry began.

"Fine, be a coward," Ron said angrily, stomping away.

"What was that about a duel?" Tonks asked, moving closer to Harry.

"Uh…not duel," Harry said, thinking fast. "He said…jewel. Yeah, he's thinking of getting his girlfriend a necklace. With a jewel on it."

Tonks nuzzled his neck. "Oh, that's so sweet. I know _I'd _love it if –"

"Got a minute, Harry?" Neville came up beside the two.

"We're _talking _here," Tonks barked at him.

"Oh, sorry. I just wondered if you could help me understand what Hodgepodge was trying to teach us yesterday, Harry." He pulled out a textbook and began to open it.

"Oh no you don't. Accio textbook!" Tonks yelled, knocking Harry out of the way. He staggered backwards, tried to regain his balance, then fell headlong down a flight of stairs. At the bottom he lay dazed, listening to the faint voices coming from the top of the stairs.

"What the – Harry, you all right?" Neville called after him.

"Of course he's all right," Tonks snapped. "Now that I've confiscated this book, which is clearly full of dark magic."

"It's just our Defense Against the Dark Arts book," Neville said in a baffled voice.

"I'm sure Dumbledore would like to hear all about this innocent little book of yours," Tonks said. "Let's go."

"But what about Harry – ow!"

The voices faded.

Harry lay in a crumpled heap until a couple students came along and carried him to the hospital wing.

* * *

Tonks pounced on Harry as he emerged from his Potions class that afternoon. "Harry! I just heard you've been to the hospital wing again! A broken arm and leg, Poppy said. What happened?"

"Oh…I just…fell," Harry muttered. "But I'm okay now. See?" He held his arm and leg out for her inspection.

"You have got to be more _careful_, Harry," Tonks lectured him, mussing his hair. "I can't be around to protect you every moment of every day, you know."

"Yeah, I know." _Thank goodness,_ he thought to himself. But then they hid in a closet and snogged for a while, so Harry forgot all about his silly broken arm and leg.

* * *

The next morning Harry joined the rest of the Gryffindor quidditch team for practice. Admittedly, it wasn't much of a practice because Ron was moping around, flying with about as much energy as a seasick elephant. Ginny was also acting a little strange, but Harry didn't really have time to dwell on what that was about. He was too absorbed in wondering what he was going to do about Tonks. Sure, he loved her, but she was bad for his health. Very bad. But still, there _was_ the snogging, he reminded himself.

He waved halfheartedly to her where she sat in the stands. She waved cheerfully back.

"Harry?" Ginny hovered to a stop at his side. "How are you?"

He glanced over. "Uh…fine, I guess. You?"  
"Great," she said glumly. She looked miserable.

"Well, good to hear," Harry said, beginning to move off on his broom. "Let's get back to work, then, shall we?" he called over his shoulder.

"Oh, Harry!" she burst out.

"What?" He looked back, surprised at her sudden outburst.

"It's just…I've been wanting to talk to you. But you've had Tonks shadowing you every minute of every day."

He shrugged. "Yeah, I know." He glanced over at Tonks, then back at Ginny. "Well, for the moment I'm free. What is it?"

She looked around nervously. "This isn't really the right place for it."

"For what?" he asked, confused.

"Just…here." She whipped an envelope out of her back pocket and handed it to him. "Read this when you're alone."

Suddenly Harry was zapped off his broom and went flying through the air…down to the ground…

_This is gonna hurt,_ he thought to himself just before he crunched into the ground.

Oh yeah, it hurt.

Tonks was by his side. She plucked the envelope up off the ground.

"Ginny! I can't believe you!" She bellowed angrily.

Ginny was already on the ground running toward them. "Harry? Are you hurt?"

Tonks restrained Ginny. "Don't even _think_ about getting any closer to him. You and I are going to see Dumbledore about this immediately."

The rest of the team was on the ground now, gathering around Harry, Tonks, and Ginny.

"About what?" Ginny asked. "All I did was hand him a letter. And then you hit him with some kind of spell and knocked him off his broom!" she accused.

Harry tried to get up, but his shoulder was dislocated and the side of his face was pouring blood and he couldn't really see much. So he fell back on the ground again. "Tonks?" he whimpered. "Again?"

"Well, of course it was me," Tonks said. "What did you think I was going to do when you handed him a cursed envelope?"

Harry groaned.

"You okay, mate?" Ron asked, kneeling next to him.

"He's fine," Tonks snapped. "And you're coming with me, little missy." She grabbed Ginny by the ear and dragged her away.

* * *

Harry was laying in the hospital wing. Though he had already been healed by Madame Pomfrey, he was reluctant to leave. Because…_Tonks was out there_. He was much safer in his little bed in here.

"Feeling better, Mr. Potter?" Madame Pomfrey asked, approaching to wave her wand around his body and make sure he was all healed and stuff.

"Sure, I guess so." He gazed miserably at his shoes and sighed.

Madame Pomfrey sighed too. Then she sat down on the edge of his bed and took his hand.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," she said.

"Yes?" he asked.

"You know killing yourself isn't the answer, right?"

He looked slightly confused. "The answer to what?"

She waved her hands around a lot. "To anything! All this hurting yourself, it's just causing you and everyone around you lots of pain."

"I'm not hurting myself," Harry said, sitting up. "Why would I hurt myself?" Actually, he was kind of insulted that she'd even think that about him. Even though he _had_ tried to Avada Kedavra himself in the mirror a bunch of times, it didn't mean he wanted to kill himself. Well, okay, it kind of did, but never mind.

"Three days in a row now you've been in here," Madame Pomfrey reminded him. "I think maybe you need to talk to someone."

"I'm not doing this to myself!" he insisted.

"Then who –"

"I don't want to talk about it," he said angrily, shutting his mouth.

After a while Madame Pomfrey gave up and walked away, muttering stuff under her breath about how Harry might as well move into the hospital wing if he insisted on getting hurt on a daily basis. But that's another chapter.

Harry was worried. He'd never realized before how…_dangerous_ Tonks was. At this rate, he'd be dead before the term ended. Dead from Tonks's protection. She was way too hazardous to have as a girlfriend.

There was nothing for it. He'd have to break up with her.

His entire body filled with icy cold dread at the very thought of it.

* * *

Since he was dreading the break-up so much, Harry stayed in his little bed in the hospital wing for a while longer. He took a little nap, read a book, stared at the ceiling, made up a song in his head…

Finally Dumbledore came in looking for him.

"Aah, here you are, Harry." He settled on the edge of the bed. "Candied cricket?" he offered, holding out a box.

"No thanks."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment or two, munching on the insect. Finally he said, "I've just had a conversation with Miss Tonks."

"How did it go?" Harry asked, eyeing the headmaster. He looked to be in one piece.

Dumbledore sighed. "I'm afraid we're going to have to let her go." He waved a hand. "We probably overreacted to that letter, anyway. I don't really think anyone wants to see you deader than a doornail. How dead can a doornail be, anyway?"

Since the question seemed rhetorical, Harry didn't answer.

The headmaster shook his head as if to clear it. "Well, anyway, I believe this is yours." He extended the envelope earlier confiscated by Tonks. "Despite Miss Tonks's suspicions, I think it's perfectly harmless. Although it did make for some good reading."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

Dumbledore patted him on the knee. "If you hurry, I think you can catch her before she leaves."

Harry raised the other eyebrow. "What for? I need another conversation with Tonks like I need two broken kneecaps."

"But you two have been making out all over the school!" Dumbledore said with dismay. "I thought you were serious!"

"How did you know that?" Harry demanded. "It was supposed to be a secret!"

"I'm the headmaster, Harry," Dumbledore reminded him. "I know everything. Plus, the author told me."

Harry shook his fist at the sky. "Curse you, mysterious unidentified writing person!" he shouted. Then he got up and stomped out of the hospital wing.

* * *

Tonks was leaning against the wall outside, looking depressed. At sight of Harry, she burst into tears.

"Oh, sweetie, did you hear the news?" She threw her arms around him. "I've been sacked. I've failed as an Auror." She sobbed into his shoulder. "Please, just hold me."

After a few seconds, which Harry deemed to be an appropriate length of time to hold her, he spoke up. "Uh…Tonks?"

"He wouldn't even listen to me," she sobbed. "He said I was overreacting, and that anyone as dumb as Neville or Colin would never try to curse you. But he said that Ginny might, only not in the middle of quidditch practice."

He tried to extricate himself from her arms. "Look, Tonks –"

"And I'm just so glad that I still have you!" she wailed, grabbing onto him with a vise-like grip.

"I want to break up with you," Harry said, muffled-like, because his face was smooshedinto her shoulder.

"Because you're the sweetest, most loyal – excuse me?" She held him out at arms' length.

"I want to break up with you," he repeated.

"Wait a minute. Wait _just a darn minute_." Her hair, which had previously been a perky lime green, turned to a frosty pink color. "You're breaking up with me?" She backed away from him, her hands balled up in fists.

"Uh…yeah?" Harry said hesitantly.

The hair was hot pink now. "You mean this whole time you've just been…_leading me on?_"

"Well…I wouldn't say _that,_ exactly," he said tentatively. "It's just…you're kind of…" he trailed off.

"Kind of? Kind of what?" she demanded. Her hair was fire engine red. And smoking.

"Crazy," he said. It only took about half a second for Harry to realize that was probably the _wrong_ thing to say. But by then it was too late.

"You think I'm…_crazy?_ I'll show you who's crazy!" Tonks advanced on him.

"Did I say crazy?" Harry asked. "Maybe that's too strong. What I really meant was –"

Tonks swung and smashed him in the nose. He flew backwards and that was the last thing he remembered. Until he woke up again, I mean. But that's a different chapter…

* * *

A/N: All reviews and encouragement appreciated.

I love it when Harry yells random things at the author. Doesn't take much to make me laugh. Oh, and I do really like the Remus/Tonks relationship in HBP. Maybe I'll have to see what I can do to make that happen. By the way, I don't think smooshed is really a word. It's kind of like smashed and pushed combined. Get it? Never mind.


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